


A Scandal in Edo

by Eline (Sans_Souci)



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Fanart, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Genderswap, Historical Fantasy, Historical References, Japanese Culture, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Other, Romance, Samurai, Slight femme slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-10-17
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Souci/pseuds/Eline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genderswap historical AU romance. Suzaku is a samurai of the shogunate and Luluko is a maid to a geisha. Warning: this fic is very long, hyper-cheesy and full of cliches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unlikely Geisha

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the kink-meme. A request for Suzaku as a samurai of the shogunate and Luluko as a geisha. (Someday, I will stop giggling whenever I read that line . . .) First time fic.
> 
> It turned out to be a very, very long cheesy historical romance. *head desk*
> 
> I don’t usually do fics like this. It might be rather tedious in some parts and the porn comes much later.
> 
> Easily one of the worst things I’ve written (and I’ve written a lot of crap before).

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the spring of Houreki 10 (1761), a small scandal occurred in Edo . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Are you done with the laundry yet?” The shrewish voice that rent the air was a familiar sound in this neighborhood.

“Almost, Aunt Kaede, almost done . . .” The young woman dragging the tub of linens across the stone tiles to the laundry lines paused to straighten the kerchief covering her hair, which had slipped and was threatening to blind her.

“You’re so slow!” Aunt Kaede came out of the backdoor and scowled at her niece. “If only out of the goodness of my heart and the love I bear for my kinsmen that I put up with this--”

Aunt Kaede was a very distant relative indeed. Luluko only knew her as some cousin of her father’s--many times removed. A harridan of a woman who was the terror of her household and intensely ambitious, she was the only relative available to take in a pair of orphaned girls from an impoverished samurai family after a plague had taken their mother and their father had succumbed from grief not long after.

The relatives were merchants who had interests in the kimono business and ran a house specialising in the newest entertainment from Kyoto, the performing female _geisha_. The only place for poor female relatives in their household was as menial labour.

“I know my departed cousin was a respected samurai, but times are hard and--”

Over the years, Luluko had learned to tune out the endless carping. The conversation was the same every time. She concentrated on getting the sheets hung up.

If we hadn’t taken you and your sister in--

“If we hadn’t taken you and your sister in, you’d be fending for yourselves on the streets!”

Aunt Kaede was going to start on how hard it was to keep extra mouths fed--

“Oh there you are, Kaede- _san_.”

Oshiitsu, one of the house’s resident performers, stood behind her aunt, who jumped ever so slightly in surprise. 

“A messenger came with a request from Mizuno Kiyoshiro,” Oshiitsu continued, expressionless as a porcelain doll. “I do not usually consider such late invitations, but the messenger also offered a gift for the inconvenience.”

The “gift” was usually a fat purse for the performer and her backer. As her aunt was probably one of the most opportunistic merchants in Shitamachi, she jumped at the chance of extra profit like a starving wolf.

“Well, if it is such an urgent request from such a distinguished patron, then you are right to accept,” Aunt said, restraining herself admirably. Then again, Aunt could not afford to be rude to Oshiitsu, who had come from Gion in Kyoto and made a name for herself as one of the best dancers in Edo. Oshiitsu was one of the few who could walk out and find plenty of houses in Shimbashi willing to take her in. “Luluko--go help Oshiitsu dress! I’ll have Kallen go with you to--”

“Kallen has already gone out with Kaguya,” Oshiitsu said. Luluko could almost hear her aunt’s face sagging. The _onna geisha_ were all the rage these days and many girls had joined up as apprentices. A sign of an experienced and popular performer was having an apprentice carry their instruments for them. For clients like the Mizuno, a show of prosperity and status was practically compulsory. “Oh I know . . . why not have Luluko carry my _shamisen_ and fans?”

“ _Her_?” Aunt Kaede asked doubtfully.

Oshiitsu walked around to Luluko and plucked off her kerchief and her hairpin, releasing her long fall of hair--her one and only vanity. “See? If we put her hair up like this, there’s no need to even use a wig,” the dancer said, lifting the dark mass up in an approximation of an apprentice’s hairdo.

“Well, if you’re sure,” her aunt said, glad that she was not going to need to spend a single brass coin to hire some junior apprentice from one of the other houses in the area to stand in. “Just don’t embarrass us,” she said sternly to Luluko before she swept off to find someone else to harangue. 

“We have to hurry now,” Oshiitsu said to Luluko, who was still gaping, open-mouthed with shock. “Oi, you look like a fish.”

“Is this all right, Oshiitsu- _san_?” Luluko asked as they entered Oshiitsu’s changing room to select a kimono.

“Well, in Gion, you’ll get your hair shaved off for impersonating an apprentice,” Oshiitsu said, watching her in evident amusement. “But for one night in Edo, no-one’s going to notice.”

“Oh.” She was not sure if Oshiitsu was having a joke at her expense, but held her tongue as her hair was sculpted into the regulation style for apprentices. Oshiitsu had “accidentally” saved her from her aunt’s tirades on many an occasion since she had arrived five years ago to practice her art in Edo.

A pioneer of her trade, Oshiitsu had capitalised on the current demand for female geisha in Edo, where certain rules and rituals were not as strictly followed as those in Kyoto. Luluko had got the feeling over time that Oshiitsu liked Edo for its rough edges and sprawling rambunctiousness.

She certainly took some pleasure in dressing Luluko up like a life-sized doll. It was practically unheard of for a geisha to attend to a servant girl.

Powdered, painted and wrapped in a simple plum-coloured kimono with a pattern of white flowers, Luluko looked at the stranger in the mirror and remembered to close her mouth before Oshiitsu called her a fish again.

“I-I should tell Nanari--” she began hesitantly after she had done her proper duties and got Oshiitsu ready in her kimono of stark black and vivid red.

“All right, but don’t be long.”

Hurrying to the back of the house where she shared a tiny room with her sister, she found Nanari engaged in winding spools of thread--one of the few tasks a blind and crippled girl could perform without assistance. The sickness that had taken their mother had rendered Nanari blind and without the use of her legs.

“Nana-chan, I’ll be back late. Remember to go to sleep early.” Aunt Kaede seldom told Nanari when to stop working. Uncle Odou was usually kind enough to tell her the time--if his wife was not around.

“Is Aunt Kaede making you run errands again, _Nee-san_?”

“I’m helping Oshiitsu- _san_ carry her instrument.”

“To the Yoshiwara? Please be careful!”

That Nanari knew about the pleasure district was worrying enough. Luluko told her sister not to worry and went to meet Oshiitsu by the entrance of the house.

Her doll-like features even more pronounced under the make-up of her profession, Oshiitsu declared them correctly attired and they left the house to make their way north-east to the Yoshiwara.

In the hurly-burly of the noisy Asakusa district, Oshiitsu wound her way expertly past merchants, street vendors and pedestrians. In her wake, clutching a shamisen wrapped in waterproof coverings, Luluko followed and hoped that she would not drop anything.

“Oshiitsu- _san_ , I really don’t know what to do,” she said, doubts returning in a rush after the initial thrill of dressing up faded away, sweeping her confidence with it.

“You sit quietly and watch, like any good apprentice.” Oshiitsu walked briskly without appearing to be in a hurry. “And if you are approached by any drunkards, slip away politely, they won’t remember your face.”

“What if they’re not drunk?”

“You have to weasel your way out of it--or start a conversation about the latest trend in poetry. The prostitutes will report anyone they think is stealing their custom.”

“But I don’t know any of the la--”

“The classics then. You were educated, weren’t you?” Deftly dodging a vendor carrying cages of chickens on a pole, Oshiitsu turned the corner and the high walls of the Yoshiwara appeared ahead of them. 

Samurai women of her clan were literate and Oshiitsu had been kind enough to pass her reading material secretly. “Yes, but--”

“I would have taken you on as my apprentice, but I was afraid I would have had to arm-wrestle your aunt for the privilege,” Oshiitsu said as they crossed the bridge leading to the Yoshiwara pleasure district, their high clogs beating out a steady rhythm on the wooden planks underfoot. 

“I thought my aunt would be glad to get rid of me . . .” Her father would have had an apoplectic fit if he was not already dead at the very idea of his daughter becoming an entertainer. It was one very short step up from being a prostitute in his eyes and truthfully speaking, some of the dancers sold other things besides dances and songs on the sly.

“That woman would rather have you as free labour than another apprentice cluttering up the house.” Her tone did not hide her true feelings about Aunt Kaede. Neither a performer or apprenticed in the traditional arts, the mistress of the house would be nothing more than “Kaede- _san_ ” to Oshiitsu. Luluko wondered why anyone like Oshiitsu would choose her Aunt as a manager and sponsor as they got in line with the other performers at the gate.

As a high-ranking performer, Oshiitsu had special status and could live outside the Yoshiwara. The guards at the gate knew her well enough and waved them through after a cursory look at her passage token and invitation card. Being women, they were not required to turn over any weapons. Luluko knew, however that Oshiitsu had very long and sharp hairpins that were as good as any dagger. As for herself, she had her mother’s _kaiken_ for self-defense. It was one of the few possessions that she had inherited and kept secret from her aunt.

She was not like Kallen, who could punch a very sensitive part of a man’s anatomy and have her hands demurely tucked back in her sleeves in a split-second. Her mother, a traditional samurai woman through and through, had not had the time to train her formally in the use of arms before the end. She would have to trust Oshiitsu to get them out of any trouble.

A rowdy party of young nobles and their samurai bodyguards arrived at the gate and she shrank behind Oshiitsu instinctively.

“Ignore them--stand up straight,” Oshiitsu said, sotto voce, as they joined the line of entertainers and performers on their way to various appointments.

She tried to do so, keeping close to Oshiitsu without bumping into her. The pleasure district was where no well-brought-up young woman should go and few knew about the world behind the walls. 

It . . . was a horrible place. As they passed down the street, she was aware of the dead, hopeless eyes that watched them from behind the wooden bars of the staging windows belonging to brothels and whorehouses. Becoming an indentured prostitute of the Yoshiwara was the worst fate any woman could suffer in Edo.

Once, when she was fourteen, Aunt Kaede had threatened to sell her there. Nanari had been within earshot and Luluko’s response had been so terrifying that Aunt Kaede did not scold her for almost a week after. She never mentioned it again.

In the midst of the thronging crowd, Luluko tried to emulate Oshiitsu, who did not even appear to be trying to avoid the other pedestrians. She was acutely aware of the scrutiny of the men who swaggered past them on the street. Oshiitsu was regally ignoring everything around her as she led the way to the banquet hall where she had been engaged to perform.

The sign at the brightly-lit banquet hall read “Heaven’s Gate”. The sound of revelry--rather tipsy revelry--could be heard even from the street. Oshiitsu’s invitation card gained them entry easily.

On the way in, they passed a troop of male dancers bearing drums and still garbed in their costumes and paint. One of the men waved to Oshiitsu.

“Naruse- _san_ , are you finished with your piece already?”

"Oh yes--got to run to the _Fragrant Bower_ next . . . This is your third appearance this week at _Heaven's Gate_ , isn’t it? You'll put us out of business, Oshiitsu- _san_ ," the man said cheerfully. He was of average height and fairly good looking behind the paint.

"The shogunate might outlaw us before then," Oshiitsu replied. "Make hay while the sun shines, Naruse- _san_."

"That's true, that's true--they've already banned combined male and female performances," said the man Oshiitsu had so familiarly called Naruse. "And who wants to see a bunch of men with hairy legs when they have nice girls like yourself, eh? Unless they were into boys, eh?"

"Oh, you would know, wouldn't you?"

The two performers exchanged more pleasantries and made promises to meet up again if possible before they separated, each to different appointments.

"Naruse's a dancer, a singer and a drummer--it's a shame they banned both sexes from sharing one stage," Oshiitsu said to Luluko, who was still goggle-eyed at her casual conversation with a male performer. "They're a nice lot--Naruse, in case you're wondering, has a very good relationship with his male patrons."

"Er, oh." Such things were usually not mentioned at all in polite company. Oshiitsu's world seemed to be the inverse of everything Luluko had been taught.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	2. A Night at the Yoshiwara

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The evening had started out at the castle and went downhill from there. Literally and metaphorically.

The plan of the select group of young noblemen had been to go to Mizuno Kiyoshiro’s party in the Yoshiwara. Together with their retainers, they had set off down the hill to Shitamachi, but it soon became apparent that some of the group members had started drinking even before setting off. 

A member of the family of one of the Shogun’s chief counselors, the _Yamashiro-no-kami_ , Jino was one of the privileged young men who had left the castle in the company of his retainer and long-time friend.

“It’s lucky no-one suggested going on horseback, isn’t it?” he said to Kururugi Suzaku as they watched another samurai stabilise his tipsy master.

Suzaku could see the potential catastrophe and mentally winced. He did not doubt that the other samurai who guarded the nobles had something to do with the lack of showy horses in this impromptu parade.

“He won’t be the only one who needs help by the end of tonight,” he said stoically.

“Lighten up, Suzaku, we’re supposed to be having fun tonight at Kiyoshiro’s party.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your impending engagement to the daughter of Lord Matsudaira, does it? Matsudaira Benihime from Fukui?”

“Oh, was that her name? I forgot,” Jino said. His carefree manner did not fool Suzaku.

“Overindulge at your own risk,” he said at last. Suzaku knew that he would be the one dragging Jino back if he became inebriated.

“Suzaku, you’re old before your time. A paragon of virtue. No wonder the old guard up in the castle like you.” However flippant he appeared, Jino was aware that he might have gone too far this time, for he tried to mitigate his words somewhat. “Not that you’re one of those old sticks! That’s why you’re here with us!”

“I’m here so that you don’t slip on a stone while drunk and split your skull open before your engagement.” And protect him against footpads, cut-throats and assassins. Which would be difficult inside the Yoshiwara because of the ban on weapons within the walled compound.

There were the usual assortment of performers and entertainers at the gate. The newly popular female _geisha_ , _Kabuki_ actors and various artists who were in fashion at the moment. Suzaku did not understand the trends that swept Edo every year, leading to his reputation as someone who was rather traditional and hidebound.

If only they knew. 

If only they knew that he found the rules of the Shogunate just as incomprehensible. The rigid mores and social codes were stifling to him. The unchanging world they lived in was becoming more and more like a cage every day. Samurai of his class and standing were not supposed to wonder about the world outside Japan. His uncle Omori Masahiro was a _hatamoto_ and he expected Suzaku to remain in Edo to help him consolidate his own influence. 

At the moment, it suited his uncle that he was a samurai in service to one of the noble clans that had the Shogun’s favour. If it had been to anyone other than Jino, Suzkau might have chafed at the restrictions on his freedom.

Suzaku had always taken refuge from uncertainty in _bushidou_. Loyalty, honour and virtue. That was why he was scanning the crowd, analysing it for any possible dangers to his charge.

And that was then he saw her. Standing behind a woman who looked like a dancer.

She was probably an apprentice by the look of her attire and the instrument she carried. Still young--perhaps around his age. The paint and powder could not conceal her delicate features and large eyes.

“See something you like? You’re human after all!” Jino crowed, slapping on the back good-naturedly.

When he looked back, she was gone. Probably following her “elder sister” to an appointment in the Yoshiwara.

“She’s gone? No matter, there’s always plenty of fish in the sea!” Jino said as they moved forward to where weapons were being checked-in. Suzaku did not bother to correct him.

They received receipts for their surrendered swords and proceeded inside the enclosed world of the pleasure district.

The inside of the Yoshiwara was everything that the rest of Edo was not supposed to be. The primary business of the area resided with the brothels, pleasure houses, banquet halls and tea houses. Vendors spilled out on the streets, opening hawking tonics from China, bears’ paws, rhino horn, tigers’ whip and dried bulls’ testicles--all guaranteed to make the user “very strong” or “potent” in preparation for a night out in the Yoshiwara. As virtually anyone in Edo could spend their coin in the pleasure district, the class system was not particularly enforced and commoners rubbed shoulders with nobles and samurai alike.

The old guard frowned upon samurai and nobility frequenting the pleasure district, which was probably why it was so popular.

The nobles’ party and their retinue arrived at _Heaven’s Gate_ , the banquet hall that Mizuno Kiyoshiro favoured. True to his reputation, he had booked the largest hall available for this night of revelry.

The hall was brightly-illuminated by dozens of lanterns, a literal oasis of wine, song and merriment. Various courtesans had insinuated themselves amongst the guests, plying them with drink and small dishes of accompanying snacks. As the Mizuno were fairly well-off, these were the higher-ranked ladies of the nights and not the sad-eyed whores behind the latticed windows.

“You’re almost late to the party!” The host, in his place of honour, hailed the newcomers loudly. 

“Apologies, apologies--would you believe that Hirano started drinking before us and almost fell into a ditch on the way here?”

“Good man! Bring them more wine!” This declaration was greeted with applause.

“You’re just in time for the next performance,” another samurai said as they settled down.

A woman in a striking black and red kimono appeared on the low stage at the front of the banquet hall carrying a _shamisen_. She bowed to her audience.

“Honoured patrons, I present to you the _Ballad of Moto-Yoshiwara_ ,” she announced and settled down to play.

As the first notes rang out, Suzaku saw a familiar face at the side of the stage who winked at him and slipped away from the banquet hall proper. Deciding that Jino would be safe where he was at the moment, Suzaku made some excuse to visit the lavatory and left in pursuit of a diminutive figure dressed in the garb of a story-teller or musician.

There was a small garden between the banquet hall Mizuno had rented and the next one. It was there that he found her, standing by the ornamental fish pond.

“Suzaku! Long time no see!” An impish face beamed at him before its owner tried to embrace him. “I’m performing for the party next door.”

“Kaguya! It’s not a good idea to do that here,” Suzaku cautioned. “People will get the wrong idea.”

“Cousin, so formal still?” Kaguya of the Sumeragi cocked her head at him questioningly. “Do they still have a ban on my name in your uncle’s household?”

“I am afraid so.” His family had been a lot more outraged about the daughter of the Sumeragi clan pursuing a career in folklore, historical records and story-telling than her actual parents. Suzaku could personally understand why a girl who could not inherit her family title would strike out on her own, but was forbidden to do so by the social code. 

As Kaguya’s parents had passed on and her brother was firmly ensconced as the head of the Sumeragi clan, she had very little holding her to her home town of Kyoto. She had come to Edo to seek new audiences and Suzaku had wondered if he would ever bump into her on the busy streets. He had not seen her since he was ten years old, but that was before--

“Your side of the family was always so stiff,” she said, but there was pity in her eyes when she looked at him. “So what are you doing here? Babysitting one of the young lordlings in there?”

“Jino. He’s partying hard before getting engaged.” Suzaku was well aware that men, especially the nobility who could afford the services of courtesans, did not stay faithful to their wives after marriage. Half the patrons in this place were probably married with children. 

“I see the cynicism in your eyes, cousin,” Kaguya said in a sing-song voice. “A man who looks like that is not going to getting married.”

“It’ll be arranged for me when my uncle thinks he’s found an opportunity to exploit.”

“So bitter.” Kaguya shook her head, but she knew as well as he that a samurai’s marriage would be decided upon and planned by a senior, higher ranking samurai--his Uncle Masahiro. “And what about your plans to go to Nagasaki for _Rangaku_?”

Suzaku had written to her--secretly--of his plan to visit the only port that admitted foreigners and take advantage of the window it opened to the rest of the world. Other samurai had gone for the so-called “Dutch studies” so it was nothing particularly radical.

“Uncle keeps saying _next year_ or _maybe two years later_ ,” Suzaku replied, knowing full well that Uncle Masahiro was reluctant to let him go.

“Such a shame. Nagasaki’s rather interesting,” Kaguya mused aloud.

“Don’t rub it in. And how are you able to get around so easily anyway?” As a member of the nobility, Kaguya’s movements were restricted, but after disinheriting herself, she was not subjected to the travel permits and red tape that someone of her former status would be. But it was still perilous for minstrels and entertainers to travel--they were not only subjected to bandits and highwaymen but occasional harassment from samurai.

“I have my ways, cousin, I have my ways,” Kaguya said, winking at him. Suzaku knew that she had connections in a world that was unseen and unsupervised by the Shogunate. It was why he had known about her disinheritance before his uncle did. A minstrel had slipped him a letter when he had been running an errand in the city. Now he usually passed his letters to a musician who lived in Asakusa and somehow or other, it would pass through unseen channels to reach Kaguya. 

“And what ways would those be?” Suzaku knew that she would be loath to give up her secrets to a samurai so closely related to a _hatamoto_ of the Shogunate.

“Trade secrets! I see some colleagues of mine. See you when destiny decides that we meet again!” Kaguya gave a dramatic bow and swept away. At least she had an outlet for all that energy.

On the way back to the banquet hall, he passed a young woman in the corridor in a plum-coloured kimono. The apprentice dancer at the gate. She was tall for a woman--almost the same height as he was. Up-close, he noticed that her eyes were dark with a tinge of violet in them.

She bowed briefly to him before hurrying away. Suzaku wondered why he was still staring down the corridor when she was no longer there.

Suzaku returned to the banquet hall, slightly distracted. The performer on stage was now dancing, her fans making intricate patterns in the air. But all he could think about was that girl.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	3. Happenings At Heaven's Gate

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The evening had started out at the castle and went downhill from there. Literally and metaphorically.

The plan of the select group of young noblemen had been to go to Mizuno Kiyoshiro’s party in the Yoshiwara. Together with their retainers, they had set off down the hill to Shitamachi, but it soon became apparent that some of the group members had started drinking even before setting off. 

A member of the family of one of the Shogun’s chief counselors, the _Yamashiro-no-kami_ , Jino was one of the privileged young men who had left the castle in the company of his retainer and long-time friend.

“It’s lucky no-one suggested going on horseback, isn’t it?” he said to Kururugi Suzaku as they watched another samurai stabilise his tipsy master.

Suzaku could see the potential catastrophe and mentally winced. He did not doubt that the other samurai who guarded the nobles had something to do with the lack of showy horses in this impromptu parade.

“He won’t be the only one who needs help by the end of tonight,” he said stoically.

“Lighten up, Suzaku, we’re supposed to be having fun tonight at Kiyoshiro’s party.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your impending engagement to the daughter of Lord Matsudaira, does it? Matsudaira Benihime from Fukui?”

“Oh, was that her name? I forgot,” Jino said. His carefree manner did not fool Suzaku.

“Overindulge at your own risk,” he said at last. Suzaku knew that he would be the one dragging Jino back if he became inebriated.

“Suzaku, you’re old before your time. A paragon of virtue. No wonder the old guard up in the castle like you.” However flippant he appeared, Jino was aware that he might have gone too far this time, for he tried to mitigate his words somewhat. “Not that you’re one of those old sticks! That’s why you’re here with us!”

“I’m here so that you don’t slip on a stone while drunk and split your skull open before your engagement.” And protect him against footpads, cut-throats and assassins. Which would be difficult inside the Yoshiwara because of the ban on weapons within the walled compound.

There were the usual assortment of performers and entertainers at the gate. The newly popular female _geisha_ , _Kabuki_ actors and various artists who were in fashion at the moment. Suzaku did not understand the trends that swept Edo every year, leading to his reputation as someone who was rather traditional and hidebound.

If only they knew. 

If only they knew that he found the rules of the Shogunate just as incomprehensible. The rigid mores and social codes were stifling to him. The unchanging world they lived in was becoming more and more like a cage every day. Samurai of his class and standing were not supposed to wonder about the world outside Japan. His uncle Omori Masahiro was a _hatamoto_ and he expected Suzaku to remain in Edo to help him consolidate his own influence. 

At the moment, it suited his uncle that he was a samurai in service to one of the noble clans that had the Shogun’s favour. If it had been to anyone other than Jino, Suzkau might have chafed at the restrictions on his freedom.

Suzaku had always taken refuge from uncertainty in _bushidou_. Loyalty, honour and virtue. That was why he was scanning the crowd, analysing it for any possible dangers to his charge.

And that was then he saw her. Standing behind a woman who looked like a dancer.

She was probably an apprentice by the look of her attire and the instrument she carried. Still young--perhaps around his age. The paint and powder could not conceal her delicate features and large eyes.

“See something you like? You’re human after all!” Jino crowed, slapping on the back good-naturedly.

When he looked back, she was gone. Probably following her “elder sister” to an appointment in the Yoshiwara.

“She’s gone? No matter, there’s always plenty of fish in the sea!” Jino said as they moved forward to where weapons were being checked-in. Suzaku did not bother to correct him.

They received receipts for their surrendered swords and proceeded inside the enclosed world of the pleasure district.

The inside of the Yoshiwara was everything that the rest of Edo was not supposed to be. The primary business of the area resided with the brothels, pleasure houses, banquet halls and tea houses. Vendors spilled out on the streets, opening hawking tonics from China, bears’ paws, rhino horn, tigers’ whip and dried bulls’ testicles--all guaranteed to make the user “very strong” or “potent” in preparation for a night out in the Yoshiwara. As virtually anyone in Edo could spend their coin in the pleasure district, the class system was not particularly enforced and commoners rubbed shoulders with nobles and samurai alike.

The old guard frowned upon samurai and nobility frequenting the pleasure district, which was probably why it was so popular.

The nobles’ party and their retinue arrived at _Heaven’s Gate_ , the banquet hall that Mizuno Kiyoshiro favoured. True to his reputation, he had booked the largest hall available for this night of revelry.

The hall was brightly-illuminated by dozens of lanterns, a literal oasis of wine, song and merriment. Various courtesans had insinuated themselves amongst the guests, plying them with drink and small dishes of accompanying snacks. As the Mizuno were fairly well-off, these were the higher-ranked ladies of the nights and not the sad-eyed whores behind the latticed windows.

“You’re almost late to the party!” The host, in his place of honour, hailed the newcomers loudly. 

“Apologies, apologies--would you believe that Hirano started drinking before us and almost fell into a ditch on the way here?”

“Good man! Bring them more wine!” This declaration was greeted with applause.

“You’re just in time for the next performance,” another samurai said as they settled down.

A woman in a striking black and red kimono appeared on the low stage at the front of the banquet hall carrying a _shamisen_. She bowed to her audience.

“Honoured patrons, I present to you the _Ballad of Moto-Yoshiwara_ ,” she announced and settled down to play.

As the first notes rang out, Suzaku saw a familiar face at the side of the stage who winked at him and slipped away from the banquet hall proper. Deciding that Jino would be safe where he was at the moment, Suzaku made some excuse to visit the lavatory and left in pursuit of a diminutive figure dressed in the garb of a story-teller or musician.

There was a small garden between the banquet hall Mizuno had rented and the next one. It was there that he found her, standing by the ornamental fish pond.

“Suzaku! Long time no see!” An impish face beamed at him before its owner tried to embrace him. “I’m performing for the party next door.”

“Kaguya! It’s not a good idea to do that here,” Suzaku cautioned. “People will get the wrong idea.”

“Cousin, so formal still?” Kaguya of the Sumeragi cocked her head at him questioningly. “Do they still have a ban on my name in your uncle’s household?”

“I am afraid so.” His family had been a lot more outraged about the daughter of the Sumeragi clan pursuing a career in folklore, historical records and story-telling than her actual parents. Suzaku could personally understand why a girl who could not inherit her family title would strike out on her own, but was forbidden to do so by the social code. 

As Kaguya’s parents had passed on and her brother was firmly ensconced as the head of the Sumeragi clan, she had very little holding her to her home town of Kyoto. She had come to Edo to seek new audiences and Suzaku had wondered if he would ever bump into her on the busy streets. He had not seen her since he was ten years old, but that was before--

“Your side of the family was always so stiff,” she said, but there was pity in her eyes when she looked at him. “So what are you doing here? Babysitting one of the young lordlings in there?”

“Jino. He’s partying hard before getting engaged.” Suzaku was well aware that men, especially the nobility who could afford the services of courtesans, did not stay faithful to their wives after marriage. Half the patrons in this place were probably married with children. 

“I see the cynicism in your eyes, cousin,” Kaguya said in a sing-song voice. “A man who looks like that is not going to getting married.”

“It’ll be arranged for me when my uncle thinks he’s found an opportunity to exploit.”

“So bitter.” Kaguya shook her head, but she knew as well as he that a samurai’s marriage would be decided upon and planned by a senior, higher ranking samurai--his Uncle Masahiro. “And what about your plans to go to Nagasaki for _Rangaku_?”

Suzaku had written to her--secretly--of his plan to visit the only port that admitted foreigners and take advantage of the window it opened to the rest of the world. Other samurai had gone for the so-called “Dutch studies” so it was nothing particularly radical.

“Uncle keeps saying _next year_ or _maybe two years later_ ,” Suzaku replied, knowing full well that Uncle Masahiro was reluctant to let him go.

“Such a shame. Nagasaki’s rather interesting,” Kaguya mused aloud.

“Don’t rub it in. And how are you able to get around so easily anyway?” As a member of the nobility, Kaguya’s movements were restricted, but after disinheriting herself, she was not subjected to the travel permits and red tape that someone of her former status would be. But it was still perilous for minstrels and entertainers to travel--they were not only subjected to bandits and highwaymen but occasional harassment from samurai.

“I have my ways, cousin, I have my ways,” Kaguya said, winking at him. Suzaku knew that she had connections in a world that was unseen and unsupervised by the Shogunate. It was why he had known about her disinheritance before his uncle did. A minstrel had slipped him a letter when he had been running an errand in the city. Now he usually passed his letters to a musician who lived in Asakusa and somehow or other, it would pass through unseen channels to reach Kaguya. 

“And what ways would those be?” Suzaku knew that she would be loath to give up her secrets to a samurai so closely related to a _hatamoto_ of the Shogunate.

“Trade secrets! I see some colleagues of mine. See you when destiny decides that we meet again!” Kaguya gave a dramatic bow and swept away. At least she had an outlet for all that energy.

On the way back to the banquet hall, he passed a young woman in the corridor in a plum-coloured kimono. The apprentice dancer at the gate. She was tall for a woman--almost the same height as he was. Up-close, he noticed that her eyes were dark with a tinge of violet in them.

She bowed briefly to him before hurrying away. Suzaku wondered why he was still staring down the corridor when she was no longer there.

Suzaku returned to the banquet hall, slightly distracted. The performer on stage was now dancing, her fans making intricate patterns in the air. But all he could think about was that girl.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

At first, the banquet hall had been a riot of noise, light and _sake_ fumes. Inured as Luluko was to the hustle and bustle of Asakusa, she had never been this close to the festivities before. Then when the glamour was stripped away, it was just a lot of semi-drunk men lolling around and applauding regardless of whatever was going on on stage while the working ladies filled up their cups.

She had helped Oshiitsu powder her hands to dry them, for damp palms were a detriment when playing the _shamisen_. Then there had been nothing for her to do but sit discreetly in a corner as Oshiitsu took to the stage to sing a popular song of the tea houses and banquet halls.

It was the music of the lower city--Shitamachi--and Luluko heard snatches of it every day while running errands for her Aunt at the market or when the performers were practicing. It was strange that the lords of the Yamanote sought it out for entertainment. 

Oshiitsu’s performance ended in applause and she set her _shamisen_ aside in exchange for her fans. Luluko was glad of some excuse to get up. Her legs were cramping up already for she was not used to sitting down for such an extended period of time--her aunt had made sure of that. After seeing to Oshiitsu’s instrument, she took the chance to stretch her legs by slipping away to the lavatory.

She bowed to the occasional guest she passed along the way, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. Surely they would know her for a fraud at once?

But none of them did. They were either too drunk or too engrossed in enjoying themselves to care. Except for that young samurai outside near the garden. She had felt the weight of his stare on her even as she hurried past.

The owner of the _Heaven’s Gate_ had made the best use of the space he had, cramming possibly three halls on his property with a number of other rooms for private parties. Thely resulting maze of corridors was rather confusing. Luluko turned a corner, opened a door at the end of the cul-de-sac--

She shut it immediately, apologised and hurried away as fast as the kimono would allow her. _That_ was certainly not the way to the toilet.

That couple, the man and woman inside the room, they had been . . .

Luluko's face felt as though it was on fire when she finally found the lavatory. She was glad for the make-up which would hide her embarrassment. The banquet hall apparently rented rooms for _that_ sort of thing as well. She told herself to grow up--this sort of thing was nothing new in the Yoshiwara.

Recomposing herself, she stepped out--and almost collided with another performer.

“Luluko!” Kaguya was the same, day and night. On stage and off stage as well.

“Kaguya- _san_ \--”

“Come, come!” she dragged Luluko into an alcove off to one side before looking around exaggeratedly for any eavesdroppers. “My, look at you! Did your Aunt put you up to this?”

“Actually, it was Oshiitsu- _san_ who--”

“--Did it to get you out of the house and away from slaving over the stove all evening,” Kaguya said knowingly. “Don’t look so shocked, we did think about bringing you out shopping but there was no way around your aunt.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble . . .” Luluko was unused to people doing things for her. 

“No trouble at all!”

“But I should be at home making sure that Nana--”

“Your sister has more sense than you, for all that she can’t see,” Kaguya said, more gently now. “She’ll be in bed by the time we get home.”

Kaguya eventually talked her into walking to the hall next door where Kallen was performing a drum dance with another apprentice.

“It’s fortunate she’s good at that,” Kaguya said as they watched Kallen cross the stage in time with the other apprentice dancer. It was already well known on their street that while Kallen was a good dancer, she was not particularly good at making conversation or discussing poetry. But she was very firm on the subject of patrons “taking liberties” and had a reputation for being “interesting in a fiery way”.

When her piece ended, Kallen bowed her way off the stage and came to where Kaguya was standing. 

“Meh, I’m glad I got that out of the way,” she muttered as she wiped away the thin film of sweat on her brow.

“Kallen, look at who’s here with Oshiitsu!” Kaguya chirruped.

“Eh? Really? Your aunt let you go?” Kallen, like everyone else, knew about her aunt. “That woman was probably saving a bronze coin on hiring someone else.” 

There was nothing Luluko could say to that.

“Now that you’re here, there’s not much fun to be had. This is work,” Kallen sighed. “Oh well, we’ll go home together, eh?”

“Of course!” Kaguya said. “If there’s time later, I’ll introduce you do some other friends!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As the night wore on, Suzaku had been partaking sparingly of the wine. His former instructor and mentor in martial arts, Toudou-sensei, had warned him about overindulging in alcohol. It dulled the senses and impaired judgement.

It was why he was alert enough to spot Jino coming back in, looking slightly breathless. He had his arm around his middle and Suzaku was immediately alarmed.

Jino waved him away as he jumped up. “Nothing to worry about. Just caught a glimpse of what was going on next door on the way to the toilet. Wooo, that dancer was a spit-fire!” 

Suzaku looked dubiously at Jino, who did not appear to be seriously injured. “What did you do?”

“I only said she danced well!”

“But did you try to get fresh with her at the same time?” Jino had markedly different concepts about personal space sometimes.

“Depends on what you mean by _getting fresh_ ,” Jino replied cheekily.

Shaking his head, Suzaku sat down again just as another set of performers arrived. 

“Oooh, that one over there,” Jino said, his attention focused raptly on a girl with a drum slung at her side.

“What? Is that the dancer you got fresh with?” Suzaku asked.

“You make it sound so _bad_ ,” Jino complained and refused to elaborate anymore as the dancers got into position.

The dancers were good at what they did, so Suzaku watched while waving away the woman who was trying to fill up his cup. They were looking out for potential customers to purchase their services later that night and while Suzaku had the same desires as young men his age did, there was a cautionary tale to be learnt from one of the samurai of his acquaintance who frequently patronised the courtesans of the Yoshiwara. Poor Norita was never the same after the skin lesions had appeared and had to go into early retirement.

His uncle had noticed his abstinence and had made some hints about finding some younger boy to mentor. Suzaku assured his uncle that while he followed the tenets of _bushidou_ , it would be a while before he went down the route that some of his peers favoured.

The drum-dancers had been the highlight of the evening. The singer returned for another ballad, something slower and more maudlin for samurai who were deep in their cups and then there was some game involving poetry. Hardly a poet even on his best days, Suzaku excused himself to get a breath of fresh air in the adjoining garden.

Away from the bright lights and heat of far too many lanterns, away from the wine fumes and the perfumed courtesans, Suzaku felt much better. Spring was well on its way and the nights were less chilly now, but the cool air was a welcome relief from confines of the banquet hall.

A muffled shriek brought him out of his reverie and into a state of hyper-alertness. He headed over in the direction of the scream and found a distasteful scene involving a courtesan and her patron just outside the guest quarters.

“Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that.” The courtesan was obviously frightened and by the look of the bruise forming on her cheek, her patron had been more than just a little rough with her.

“Oh? You’re just the type to argue over the honour of a whore,” the other man said. He was a samurai by the way he assumed a fighting stance, but they had no blades on them. Suzaku hoped that this would not degenerate into a brawl.

“Honour or not, I’m sure you didn’t pay enough to compensate her for that sort of thing,” Suzaku pointed out, carefully ensuring that this hands were free. The other man looked like he had had a few cups too many.

“Honoured guests, I beg of you, don’t make a scene!” The newest arrival looked like the landlord of _Heaven’s Gate_ and someone who could see potential trouble brewing from a mile away. “We can work this out--”

“This interfering--”

“Eh, what’s going on here?” a loud and slightly tipsy voice asked.

Jino’s appearance was timely and very much needed. He outranked everyone present and the owner of the banquet hall would certainly turn to him to arbitrate.

“Nothing important, noble sir! Just a misunderstanding, I’m sure,” the landlord babbled frantically.

“So you have your friends in high places with you tonight,” the other man muttered, but he was not so far gone that he would pick a fight with a noble in the Yoshiwara. “The landlord is right. This can be settled without such a public display.”

“If the honoured patron so wishes, he may select another girl. This way, sir, this way . . .” All unctuous good will and servile to boot, the landlord ushered the other samurai away. The courtesan made herself scarce without being told.

“Suzaku, you might have made an enemy . . .” Jino said, looking at the pair as they departed the scene. He was not as soused as he had pretended to be. Then again, he did live in Edo Castle amongst the most power-hungry nobles in the entire country.

“It’s not as though we have become mortal enemies over a simple disagreement,” Suzaku argued.

“You don’t remember him? You beat him in a _friendly_ \--and that’s a very loose definition of the word--spar just last week,” Jino said. “He’s not the type to forget that sort of thing. And now this. You, my friend, are sometimes a little too dense to sense when someone hates your guts.”

Oh, _him_. Suzaku did remember now. It was strange how different a man looked on the sparring grounds and after a few cups of _sake_. Rujian-no Banjirou, a samurai from Nagano. He was one of the mercenary samurai that Toudou-sensei was not in favour of.

“He’s a mean drunk, according to Hirano,” Jino continued.

“I can see that.” Suzaku’s impression was that the man appeared to have something against higher-ranked samurai. This attitude was fairly obvious on the practice grounds and had become downright poisonous after some sake. “But he’s not going to try anything here, Jino.”

Any further discussion on Jino’s part was curtailed by the sound of the timekeeper’s gong ringing out the hour. It was also a warning and reminder that the great gate of the Yoshiwara would be shut at ten o’clock.

As patrons, they could rent a room at the prices offered by the banquet hall owners of the Yoshiwara or go back home. Suzaku looked to Jino for the final decision. If the ladies of the Yoshiwara still held some appeal for Jino, then he would have ample opportunity to practice his meditation technique while waiting for the dawn.

“This party is getting a bit tiresome, eh? Let’s go back, Suzaku,” Jino said. 

Suzaku did not question Jino’s sudden change of heart. This was enough fun for one day, if it even qualified as remotely entertaining. They bade their host farewell, but it was not clear if he even registered their departure.

There was already a steady procession of patrons and entertainers on the streets when they stepped outside--all of them heading towards the gate before ten o’clock. The mass of people at the gate made Suzaku uneasy for such a thick press of bodies could hide assassins. 

It was in the middle of all this that he caught a glimpse of a familiar face for the third time that night just over the shoulders of a _kabuki_ troupe. 

Her profile seemed to jump out at him even in the midst of the crowd. And then she was gone again, lost in the sea of humanity that was pouring out of the Yoshiwara.

Noticing his preoccupation, Jino shook his head. “Suzaku . . .”

“What?”

“You know you need to get laid in the worst possible way, right?”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	4. Awakening

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Like the other dancers, singers, actors and comedians, Oshiitsu had to leave the Yoshiwara at ten o’clock. They fell in with a troupe of kabuki actors Kaguya knew and a number of Naruse- _san_ ’s peers, all bearing their instruments and costumes with them while bitching collectively about how some hall owners would not let them store their props unless they paid rental fees.

It was quite a lively journey all the way out of the Yoshiwara and into the streets of Shitamachi. One of Naruse- _san_ ’s friends lived just up their street in Asakusa and it was decided that Tamaki- _san_ would see them home and save them all the price of hiring a lantern-bearer.

Tamaki- _san_ was a talkative man who kept them all amused with overly-grandiose narratives of his drumming expertise on the way back. The four of them reached the house without incident and Tamaki- _san_ continued to swagger up the street.

Aunt Kaede and Uncle Odou were probably in bed by that time. Nanari was, as Kaguya predicted, in bed and asleep when she went to check on her. Satisfied that Uncle Odou had come through for once, Luluko went to help the performers out of their kimono. Each kimono had to be stored away carefully, or else Aunt Kaede would have a fit.

Then Kallen helped her to fetch basins of lukewarm water for all of them to wipe away their make-up and wash up. It was a much more relaxed atmosphere in the common room as they literally let their hair down.

“Ow,” Luluko muttered as Kallen helped her to take out the hairpins. Her scalp ached from having her hair up for so long.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Kallen asked. “My scalp will never get used to it.”

“Aah, you’ll never make it out of apprenticeship at this rate,” Kaguya complained. It was an old refrain that Kallen did not take to heart. Luluko slipped away to fetch the tea-making tools and snacks. Aunt Kaede usually did not approve, but she was fairly helpless against Oshiitsu and Kaguya, who were obdurate and overwhelming personalities respectively. Luluko had the sneaking suspicion that the performers had chosen to stay in a house where they could basically have their own way. For all of her nagging, Aunt Kaede was a pushover when stronger personalities were around.

She returned to a discussion of monthly earnings. Performers were not shy about talking about money amongst themselves. Luluko made tea as talk about stingy patrons and the current going rates flew over her head.

“Looks like you win this month, Oshiitsu-san,” Kaguya said, shaking her head ruefully. “At this rate, I will have to take up begging outside the shrine.”

“Says a woman who paints _shunga_ as a sideline,” Oshiitsu said over the lip of her cup. “I know you’re making extra on the side from those books.”

“Times are hard, times are hard,” Kaguya said in a spot-on imitation of Aunt Kaede, complete with hand-waving and the look of someone who had been sucking on sour plums. 

Kallen laughed outright while Luluko buried her mirth behind a sleeve.

“Not that many people want to sit around and listen to the old classics anymore,” said Kaguya, who could recite _The Tale of the Bamboo-cutter_ verbatim. “And so many nobles want pillow books for instruction.”

“Show us the latest in erotic bed-time reading,” Kallen demanded. “Show us this educational material you make.”

With some prodding, Kaguya fetched her work-in-progress. As she had come by some of the new Dutch pigments and paints from someone in Nagasaki, she was able to do darker lines and more intense colours, she explained proudly to an audience who was not really listening to her as they perused the painted erotica that Kaguya produced under a pseudonym. Even Kallen turned a little red at the blatant scenes as she turned the pages.

“This is . . . from real life?” Luluko could not imagine watching the acts portrayed on paper, much less sitting down and painting it while it occurred.

“Mostly posed, though some of them were getting a little too turned on in the middle of it,” Kaguya said thoughtfully. It was hard to remember, at times like this, that Kaguya was barely older than Nanari.

“I really like how you magnified just about everything in this one,” Kallen snorted. “Is that a man or a horse?”

“Some customers are very myopic when the lights are dimmed,” Kaguya said. “What are you staring at, Luluko? Something got your attention?”

“That . . .” Luluko pointed at one particular image. “I think . . . I think I saw that in one of the rooms at _Heaven’s Gate_.”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Oshiitsu said as she leaned in for a closer look.

“ _Kissing_?” Kallen asked in surprise.

“It’s not something practiced in public, so of course it looks strange,” Kaguya said as she spread out the page entitled “Courtesan and patron engaging in _seppun_ ”.

“Oh it’s fairly simple . . . Like this,” Oshiitsu said and before Luluko could protest, she had pressed her lips against hers. Frozen in place, Luluko did not know what to do until Oshiitsu stopped and sat back as though nothing had happened.

“Oh you’re terrible, Oshiitsu- _san_! Luluko’s going so red!” Kaguya exclaimed. 

Valiantly trying not to flush, Luluko pressed on. “I mean--I mean does the woman or--or the man start it?”

“Depends,” Oshiitsu said. “Sometimes, the man likes to be in charge. And sometimes, he likes the woman to be bolder.”

The performers seemed amused that Luluko was taking an interest. It was a thing that well-brought up ladies did not talk about with entertainers.

“But you have to be careful. When a man does this,” Kallen said, dramatically cradling Luluko’s face in her hands, “and looks into your eyes--”

“And tells you you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen--” Kaguya cut in.

“It’s time you punched him in the gut because it’s another cheap line to get you in the sack,” Kallen finished.

“Huh?” Blinking in surprise, Luluko looked around in bewilderment at the others.

“Ne, you’re so cute like that . . . can I kiss you?” Kallen whispered and took advantage of the fact that Luluko’s lips were already parted.

“My!” Kaguya and Oshiitsu were treated to the sight of Luluko turning three shades redder than she had been previously.

“Ka--Kallen- _san_!” Luluko exclaimed when Kallen stopped kissing her. It had been . . . strange, but oddly exhilarating. When the other girl had her tongue inside her mouth--

“Kallen, you were talking advantage of Luluko,” Kaguya lectured her. “You hypocrite!”

“W--Well, I asked first!” Kallen protested. 

“You didn’t give her much time to reply,” Oshiitsu murmured.

“You’re just as bad, Oshiitsu- _san_! And you kissed her first!”

“But not like that.”

“But you’re the--the most _experienced_ one,” Kallen said and one could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. No-one asked or mentioned or even referred to Oshiitsu’s age obliquely. No-one dared. Even Luluko--who had known Oshiitsu since the moment she set foot inside the house five years ago--did not know her real age.

“Oh? I’m _experienced_ , you say?” Oshiitsu arched an eyebrow in the way that only she could. “Well then, let me show you girls how a woman does it. If Luluko does not mind . . .”

“Er, I--I . . .” Luluko looked down, wondering why she did not feel as guilty as she should for this. “I don’t--actually--mi--” 

“Saa . . .” Oshiitsu slid closer to Luluko and tilted her chin up.

“Nmmm--” Oshiitsu’s lips were gently urging her own to part. And at that moment, Luluko could not think of a reason not to. Nor could she find any coherent thought as a warm wet tongue caressed her own--

“Um,” she sighed as Oshiitsu ended the kiss. That had been . . . different from Kallen’s kiss.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Oshiitsu said, noting the high colour of her cheeks and the slightly glazed look in her eyes. “You should go to sleep now.”

“Aah, that’s probably for the best,” Kaguya said carefully. Kallen could only stare.

“Ah! Yes, right,” Luluko muttered. She had to get up early to make breakfast for the whole house after all. But something had changed . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Ne, was that wise?” Kaguya asked after Kallen and Luluko had left the room.

“Wise or not, what’s done is done. I suspected she was a complete innocent, but not _that_ innocent,” Oshiitsu muttered irritably. 

“I mean, she spends all her time doing housework and taking care of her sister--it’s not like she even has the time to think about that sort of thing,” Kaguya mused. “Or else she really was too repressed . . .”

“She wasn’t very repressed when I had my--”

“All right, I get the picture!” Kaguya put up her hands in a dramatic gesture to stop the flow of Oshiitsu’s words. “I would say she is fairly awakened now . . .”

And that might mean trouble--Oshiitsu could feel it in her bones.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was bad form to do things like attempting to duck one's lord in a horse trough when one was an adult. Suzaku kept this in mind while enduring Jino's endless ribbing. It was bad enough that his uncle had mentioned it.

But it all came to a head a week later, while they were on the common sparring grounds of the _Nishnomaru_ , practicing _battoujutsu_. Well, at least one of them was practicing.

His--now semi-retired--mentor had told him that his _kenpou_ needed work. Toudou- _sensei_ had been extremely critical of his draw, back when they he had been in training.

 _"Your draw has nothing of your spirit in it!"_ Toudou- _sensei_ would bellow during practice. _"And it reflects in your sword forms as well!"_

There were other, less complimentary descriptions of his sword forms but Suzaku kept the main gist of it in mind as he went through the forms with his wooden practice sword.

Jino had been his sparring partner for most of the morning, but was now taking an unduly long break in the shade because he was "not as resilient as a straw-mat target", he claimed.

"You know why you've got so much energy to use on those targets, don't you?" Jino was saying. "It's because you don't have any other outlets for it. While virtue is a . . . well, _virtue_ , you're not a monk and--"

Suzaku tried to concentrate on the targets.

"--since your uncle has said something about it as well--"

Left then right. Stance. _Firmer_ stance.

"--so as your friend and going-to-be-some-day-soon-now-employer--"

Ready for the draw. This had to be timed just right--

"--I took the liberty of arranging a girl for you--"

Suzaku froze in mid-draw.

“What?” He was saying that a lot these days, whenever Jino announced something completely unexpected. Suzaku had to pause and put down his practice sword least he injured Jino with it.

Jino grinned--not a good sign. “You’re so picky . . . so I thought of that girl you were staring at the night of Kiyoshiro’s party.”

“But she’s not one of the courtesans--”

“Well, a man at the _Heaven’s Gate_ told me that he could arrange something,” Jino said. “Besides, if you’re worried about catching anything like poor old Norita, you should go for the fresher ones.”

Suzaku had not doubt that Jino had met such a man, the type who arranged backroom deals with unlicensed prostitutes. Edo was now a much more sophisticated city than it had been before--sometimes not in a positive way.

“If she’s a virgin, then you’re lucky. They say that a night with a virgin will ensure that you’ll be potent for a very long time afterwards,” Jino continued. “Of course that might mean that the price would be higher--”

That particular myth had been around for ages and was probably about as effective as tonic made from grated dried bulls’ pizzle and cobra’s blood. Suzaku was not some old man who needed help in resurrecting an erection. And he was very close to committing a crime on the person of the lordling he was supposed to be protecting.

“Jino . . .” Suzaku told himself that it was not really Jino’s fault. Being a noble had made him slightly . . . out of touch with the rest of the world. He was also fairly gullible and some of the other nobles’ bad habits might start rubbing off on him at this rate.

“That look on your face . . . means I screwed up?”

“You’re exploiting the fact that the girl’s family might be hard up. Or her house is hard up.” Or the fact that few people in Edo could say no to a member of the nobility.

Jino’s face fell and Suzaku sighed inwardly. He had been planning to ask his uncle for leave to travel as a special favour as his eighteenth birthday approached. Now Nagasaki might have to wait another year.

“I’ll pay . . . that man for her services, Jino. Don’t let your parents know you were ever involved in this sort of thing,” Suzaku said firmly. He did not like to ask his uncle for favours like this, but it could not be helped at this rate. “How much did he suggest you offer?”

When he heard Jino’s answer, Suzaku had to remind himself to breathe slowly so that he would not indulge in an unsightly fit of pique. There went the slim chance that whoever the girl’s keepers were would refuse because of the price.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	5. One Week After

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Are you sure of this?" Rujian-no Banjirou, samurai in service to the Inaba clan, asked the man seated opposite him in the private booth of the tea house

Yoshida was a thin, tanned fellow who spent most of his time procuring young women for the pleasure quarters from the peasant families outside Edo. He had a healthy side line in obtaining erotic aids, toys, younger boys and virgins for a more discerning clientele. All in all a man that no-one in their right mind would trust around their young sons and daughters. But he was such a good source of potentially scandal-worthy material that people actually paid him for information.

"Good sir, for bit of silver, I would swear it before the altar of a shrine." Laughing mirthlessly at his own joke, Yoshida leaned forward. "I am certain of this, because I was the man the young lordling asked for this particular service."

There was no doubt that Yoshida had come forward and offered his "services". But the samurai was too excited to worry about the small details.

"And you say that you have found the girl?"

"Indeed I have." Yoshida drained his cup and waited for a refill, which the samurai did rather grudgingly. The man was just a jumped-up pimp--but a potentially useful one. 

"As it turned out, the girl is not an apprentice dancer to Oshiitsu of Gion, but a servant of the house. I'm not even sure she's a virgin, but there's no point in letting that get out so soon, eh?"

Of course virgins fetched higher prices in Yoshida’s trade.

"I had to cite the risks involved," Yoshida continued. "A dancer's reputation could be ruined if we are not discreet, the relatives may not agree if the price is too low--"

And Yoshida would get a fat commission from selling mutton dressed as lamb. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

"So they're paying for an apprentice dancer, but getting a servant girl?"

"Indeed, sir, indeed." Yoshida's eyes were now fixed on the paper-wrapped bundle that the samurai laid on the table. The matters of the samurai and their feuds was none of his business. He was just in it for the money.

“Do your job then. If the family refuses, up the price until they agree.” The bundle was pushed forwards into Yoshida’s waiting hands.

“Sir doesn’t need to ask twice.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Does it look like there will be many cherry blossoms this year, _Nee-san_?”

“I think so . . .”

It was a familiar sight on the street they lived on, the older girl pushing along the two-wheeled handcart with her sister and the day’s shopping in it back home. Luluko had gone against convention when she had insisted on bringing Nanari outside despite Aunt Kaede’s protests. It was one of the few instances when she openly defied her aunt and thumbed her nose at the custom of keeping invalids out of sight and out of mind. The neighbourhood had got used to it over the years--the denizens of Asakusa were fairly flexible compared to the rest of the city.

“It even feels warmer now.” Wrapped in a quilt with a box of tea on her lap, Nanari sat between the vegetables, various jars of pickles and a wrapped packet of fish. “ _Nee-san_?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I getting too heavy for you?”

“Of course not, silly.”

“Maybe we should stop doing this soon, _Nee-san_. . .”

“Nonsense! Whatever put that idea in your mend?”

“But _Nee-san_ , shouldn’t you be thinking of getting married?”

“I never thought of that.” That was the truth. But if that meant forsaking Nanari, then she would remain a spinster all her life. A girl with a crippled sister had no prospects at all.

“Do you remember? When mother used to comb your hair, she said she would give you her lacquer comb and hairpins when you got married--”

But there was no comb and hairpins left. Nothing left of her mother except for her sister and a dagger to defend them both.

“Nanari--maybe we should stop talking about this now . . .”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The tall, thin man who called himself as Yoshida ended his introduction, made his sales pitch and prepared to deliver the final incentive to the pair of merchants whose shop he sat in.

“And so I am authorised to discreetly make this offer to you,” the intermediary said, pushing forward a sheet of paper.

Upon reading the sum offered, Kaede almost fainted, but was kept upright by force of sheer avarice.

“The girl is our niece after all--”

“I have been authorised to consider your circumstances and I am pleased to offer you a revised sum.” Another sheet of paper.

“She’s a decent, well-brought up--”

“I have been permitted to consider that as well. In return for this priceless gift, I can offer you this.” The sheet of paper with the final price for a guaranteed virgin was passed over.

Aunt Kaede was speechless for once in a very long time. Her husband looked far less excited at the prospect.

“It would also be in your interest to accept. Other parties have . . . taken an interest, should I say,” the man known as Yoshida said. “I humbly beseech you to consider this offer and permit my rudeness in returning for an answer in three days time.”

Yoshida bowed his way out, satisfied that he had done his job.

“Dearest, we might be getting into something well over our heads,” Odou said to his wife when the intermediary had left. “I mean, he all but said that--”

“I know, husband!” Kaede snapped. That Yoshida was a shady character, but he represented a noble and had offered a handsome price, veiled threats notwithstanding.

“She’s not going to--”

“Leave her to me, husband, leave her to me.” Their headstrong niece was probably the largest obstacle . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When her aunt had taken her aside to discuss “her future”, Luluko feared that Nanari had been right and that her relatives would marry her off to some man she had never met.

Somehow, the truth had been worse than what she had imagined.

“He’s young and not bad-looking, by all accounts. It could be some old codger with no teeth and smelly feet!” Aunt Kaede was in full force today.

“Just think! You’ll have enough for a dowry and it’ll be large enough that no-one would mind that . . . well, you’ll make a good match,” her aunt continued, glossing over the issue. “And it costs so much to feed extra mouths these days--”

“But Nanari--”

“If you’re so concerned about your sister, then you would consider this,” Aunt Kaede said, more softly this time. “If you’re not willing to get married, then at least you could be a mistress of a powerful man and provide for your sister. Any sons you have by him can become samurai. You’ll have descendants to care for you in your old age at least.”

Unlike any sons would she have if she married a commoner. But that was far from her mind right now.

“There’s not much of a future left for you unless you can find a man to support you. It’s a woman’s lot in life,” Aunt Kaede said, this time without embellishment or feigned emotion. “You’re old enough to know that.”

Yes, she was old enough to know. But she was still young and headstrong enough to resent her lack of power.

“Take some time to think about it. But know that that man will come back for an answer in three days . . . And think about your dear uncle and aunt for once!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“ _Nee-san_ , is something bothering you?”

“Why do you say that, Nanari?”

“You seem so distracted . . .”

“It’s nothing.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Careful!” Kallen had to pull her arm back as the cup overflowed.

“Oh--” Luluko looked down at the spreading puddle of tea. The fact that she had almost scalded herself with hot tea seemed to be registering very slowly.

“Whatever’s wrong with you?” Oshiitsu asked.

“You’ve been like that the whole day!” 

The performers had returned from their engagements and had gathered in the common room after undressing for the night. Sensing that the young woman was troubled, they sat her down while Kallen dried up the split tea.

Haltingly, in embarrassed fits and starts, she told them about the offer that had been made to her guardians.

“Oh that’s just disgusting!” Kallen said. “Stupid rich nobles think that they can buy anything with money--”

“But that’s the truth!” Luluko looked shocked by her own outburst, but she soldiered on. “If I want to stay with Nanari, if I want to take care of her instead of being married off to someone who wouldn’t want her around--”

“You can’t take it on yourself like this,” Kaguya said with a frown. “There has to be another way.”

“It’s your decision.” Oshiitsu looked at her with an unreadable expression. “In the end, you have to decide.”

“I’m lucky to even have a say in it,” she muttered bitterly. Most commoners gladly sold their daughters off when the offer presented itself. Aunt Kaede had probably been afraid that she might do something embarrassing if they had agreed first, instead of dutifully doing as she was told like some mild-mannered sheep of a girl.

“I don’t think much of your aunt and uncle for entertaining such an offer,” Kaguya said, “but it sounds like they are being pressured as well.”

“Stupid nobles,” Kallen said again, but without much heat.

The mood in the room darkened after that.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_“You can’t tell Nanari about this.”_

_“Of course not.”_

_“Then--I--”_

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	6. Not Quite the Impetuousness of Youth

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In his relatively short life, Suzaku had never actually prayed before. But he stopped by the small shrine outside the _Nishinomaru_ that week and offered up some incense in the hopes that the offer would be refused.

But the gods must have been in a sadistic mood, or he had offended them greatly in some way or other, for Jino’s intermediary returned with the news that the deal had been sealed.

The worst thing was, his uncle actually seemed to approve of it. Uncle Masahiro was glad that he was taking an interest in something other than sword drills, archery and reading everything he could get his hands on.

_“Just as long as she’s not an Untouchable, you can have her as a mistress. About bloody time too . . .”_

But fate had decreed that the girl was not of the wrong social class and “pure as driven snow”, if that awful intermediary was to be believed. If Suzaku had been less responsible, he would have left all dealings with that particular character to Jino.

The man had even arranged for the first assignation at “a very discreet establishment”.

Feeling somewhat sleazy by association, Suzaku made a detour to his former mentor’s place in the city after meeting up with the procurer.

Toudou-sensei had a residence-cum- _doujou_ in a quiet street west of the castle. He apparently meant to spend his twilight years in meditation upon the tenets of his particular school of _kenpou_ and write a treatise on it in between the odd student he felt like taking on.

Yet Suzaku was not surprised to find his former mentor absent from his austere quarters and outside practicing _battoujutsu_ in full armour. The old warhorse was still active. The housekeeper, a lady called Nagisa, showed him in and Suzaku waited for his teacher to put away his armour and weapons.

"So are you going about your uncle's business now?" Toudou-sensei asked after the usual greetings and inquires about his health.

"Not exactly, _Sensei_ . . ." It was difficult to tell his mentor what was bothering him. The way of the warrior advocated stoicism in the face of adversity. But he was barely eighteen and without a family other than his uncle to go to for advice.

"So this is about a woman?" Toudou-sensei frowned after he tried to explain. "You have grown up, Suzaku, but some things you may not have learned yet." 

"I--"

"A woman appreciates being noticed, yet shies away from overt attention," his teacher continued. "A man has to tread a narrow path between two extremes--he cannot be fawning over her, but he cannot ignore her completely."

Having seen the looks that the housekeeper shot his way, Suzaku wondered if Toudou- _sensei_ was the right person to be speaking about such matters.

" _Sensei_ , it's not like that," Suzaku said.

"Oh?"

Suzaku tried to clarify his problem. He told his former teacher about the girl, Jino's well-meaning but botched attempt at setting him up with said girl, then the whole thing with his uncle, who just wanted him to be another Edo-based bureaucrat and was happy that Suzaku was finally doing something he approved of.

Toudou- _sensei_ was silent for a moment and Suzaku wondered if he had been clear enough. 

"Suzaku, there are times when a man has to be like water--gentle as a stream, yet strong like the tide," he began.

It took a few seconds for Suzaku to realise what his mentor was talking about. Toudou- _sensei_ was, in his own indirect and somewhat awkward way, trying to tell him about sex.

"Um, _Sensei_ \--"

"Like when you wield the blade, there are times when you have to time your draw and temper your thrusts in order to--"

That metaphor had gone on long enough. Suzaku was not sure he would be able to watch a bout of sparring with a straight face if this went on.

"It's not about the sex, _Sensei_!"

Taken aback by his outburst, Toudou- _sensei_ stared at his former student.

The torrent of words inside him was threatening to spill out. Suzaku just wished that someone would see it his way for once. That he did not want to be another bureaucrat of the Shogunate like his uncle wanted him to be. That he did not have to do things the way everyone else did, whether it involved his love-life or lack of one. And how in the world had everything got so complicated that he was suddenly buying some poor girl's virginity like one of those antiquated lords whose hypocritical rules he was honour-bound to uphold?

But it did not have to be so complicated, did it? He could just tell the girl to keep the damned money and go on with his life while she got on with hers. He could even ask leave from Jino--who was technically the one whom he owed loyalty to--and leave for Nagasaki in a week. If his uncle refused, there was always _that_ \--

Suzaku hoped that his uncle would see reason. He did not want to resort to blackmail.

"Thank you for your advice, Toudou- _sensei_!" Suzaku said, bowing low.

"Erm . . ." His mentor looked confused by his sudden declaration.

"You were a great help!"

"Ah the impetuousness of youth . . ." Toudou muttered as he saw his former student out and returned to his contemplation of his _Ryuu_.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Every day that week before the set date, Aunt Kaede slathered her hands with oils to smooth over the rough patches. A well-to-do man would not consider a rough-handed servant girl for a mistress. But Luluko was pleased to see that there were some calluses that all the scented oils in the world could not erase in such a short time.

_This one was from cutting vegetables practically every day for five years. These two were from pushing the cart with Nanari in it--_

She was no fine lady even with the rich, violet silk kimono with the embroidered cranes that had been selected for her use. The hair pins that held her hair up in its elaborate coils and loops were not her mother’s lacquer and gold ones. Looking at her own image in the mirror, she felt a child playing at dressing-up.

Even Aunt Kaede had hesitantly said that she looked especially pretty. Which was strange because she had never been so miserable in her life since the time her mother died.

Nanari did not know what she was about to do. She assumed that Luluko was going to help Oshiitsu again. Luluko did not contradict this assumption--nor did she lie to her sister. She could not bring herself to do that.

Oshiitsu and the other two had let their silence signal their disapproval. Though it had probably taken a near miracle to get Kallen to remain silent on the subject. They would be going about their engagements as usual, even on this night.

Luluko had brought her mother’s _kaiken_ , secreted under her _obi_ in its usual place. She wondered why she had brought it along. There would be no honour to defend after this night.

But she stiffened her spine and forced herself to remain ramrod straight as she exited the house in her finery. She would have to survive this and come back to Nanari. That alone would have to sustain her.

The intermediary--Yoshida--was there in person to see the final stage of the deal go through. She did not like him on sight--this man who looked like he was selling snake-oil and tired old promises out of the side of his mouth.

He had arranged for a palanquin. Discretion was apparently his middle name. The _geisha_ came out after she had mounted the conveyance, standing at the entrance like a trio of dolls in their paint as they looked out. They were there for her, Luluko understood that much. Touched as she was, there was nothing she could do as the bearers shouldered their poles and set off.

The dancers followed the palanquin to the end of the street before parting ways. Like a wedding procession, only not. They went north to the Yoshiwara while the palanquin was borne west and south.

Hidden behind the wood and paper walls of the palanquin, she still felt strangely exposed. The rocking motion was making her nauseous--although that could be attributed to the raw fear in her belly curdling her guts from the inside out.

Her indignation at being sold like chattel was supplanted by a more basic terror of the unknown. All the odd bits and pieces she had picked up through hearsay and the _shunga_ Kaguya had shown her had formed an incomplete picture of the act itself. Aunt Kaede had not been of much help and Oshiitsu had only said, in her ambivalent way, that it was up to her entirely from this point on.

Too soon, much too soon, the palanquin came to a halt and a businesslike tap on the side walls reminded her that cowering in fear was not going to do anything for her situation.

They had come to a small courtyard surrounded by wooden buildings. Yoshida motioned her towards one doorway briskly. Time was a-wasting. He had a deal to seal after all.

The sun had set and the dim lanterns in the entryway prevented any missteps but kept patrons’ faces in the shadows. A very discreet place indeed.

Luluko followed the intermediary, heart pounding in her throat and a cold sweat breaking out on her brow despite the cool spring night. This was not what she would have wanted even if she had been inclined to give herself to a man.

Yoshida was oiling his way forwards, making introductions. But she was no longer listening as she saw the man who had bought her maidenhead.

It was that samurai with the intense and somewhat gloomy stare from that night when she had gone to the _Heaven’s Gate_ with Oshiitsu.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	7. Inn of the Cypress Trees

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The small inn in the quiet neighbourhood was very discreet. Suzaku wondered if its sole purpose was to be a place of assignation. Arriving early, he met no-one while entering the courtyard and a single servant met him at the door to guide him to a room. There was no one in the corridor, but the rooms appeared occupied.

The room he was led to was elegantly simple. Which meant that it contained a neatly turned-down futon, one low table and a box-screen lamp. Customers obviously did not rent these rooms to play long, stimulating games of _shougi_.

Suzaku waved away the servant after declining the offer of having wine brought in. He settled down to wait, but sleazy as the intermediary was, he was also extremely punctual, arriving just at the appointed time with the girl.

Although Suzaku had come with his noble intentions and high-flying ideals, he was momentarily struck dumb by the sight of her as she entered the room. She was even more striking without the paint that the dancers wore. Her eyes were more pronouncedly violet than he remembered--or perhaps it was the effect of the very flattering kimono she wore. 

She noticed that he was staring at her and looked down at the floor in embarrassment. Had he been that obvious?

The damned intermediary was still talking well past the introductions. Suzaku had to firmly dismiss him. And refrain from punching the man when he made a shallow jibe at the impatience of youth.

When he turned back after closing the door, she was seated demurely by the table, eyes downcast and hands folded inside her sleeves.

There was an awkward pause and Suzaku realised that he would have to break it because he was male. Where was Toudou- _sensei_ when he was really needed?

"Luluko- _san_ , was it?"

"Yes, Kururugi- _sama_?" Her voice was low yet feminine without being pitched artificially high in the current fashion.

"Well, there may have been a misunderstanding . . . Lord Jino arranged this for me and inconvenienced you somewhat--" _Oh that was smooth_ , his inner critic jeered. "Inconvenienced" was such a ridiculous euphemism for what this girl had probably been put through.

Wincing mentally, he moved to sit down and the girl shifted ever so slightly. The movement exposed her hands for a moment and Suzaku's eyes were immediately drawn to the object she was clutching in her white-knuckled grip--

He was on her in a flash, pinning the wrist of the hand that clutched the blade to the floor.

On closer inspection, that blade was not a dagger but an antique _kaiken_. But why would she be carrying a--

“Are you an assassin?” he demanded. What if she had been expecting Jino instead? “Why are you using this blade?”

She could not answer him as she was obviously terrified out of her mind. Her posture was entire defensive. For the first time in seven years, Suzaku felt ashamed. Prying the _kaiken_ from her fingers, he loosened his grip on her and sat back on his heels.

Thus freed, the girl scrambled away, hairpins falling left and right, and crouched against the wall furthest from him. Suzaku was effectively blocking the doorway and any possible routes of escape.

“Now will you tell me why you’re carrying this?” he asked, trying to sound reasonable.

“It’s--It’s my m-mother’s . . . Give it back!” she demanded with a sudden show of spirit that had been at odds with her meek demeanor.

This was no merchant’s child. She was a samurai’s daughter. The girl had obviously not wanted this. And she had been terrified that he would rape her.

She was a strange, contradictory woman. There were calluses on her hands--he had discovered them when he wrested the blade away from her--but they were not the ones attained from using the long spear or _kaiken_. She had looked classically beautiful and demure previously, but that wild look in her eyes at the moment told him that he would get well-clawed for his efforts if he dared go near her.

But she was not crying. Frightened as she was, she did not set up a wailing display to invoke pity.

“Perhaps later,” Suzaku said. The _kaiken_ had been sheathed. If this woman was an assassin, then she was a very bad one. He sat down very slowly, sheathed blade in hand, as though he was facing a skittish wildcat. “How did you come by this?”

“I told you it’s my mother’s!”

“Then why are you here? Your family--”

“--are dead,” she spat out. “No close kin. No-one but a distant cousin of my father’s.”

Somewhat intrigued, Suzaku managed to coax her story out of her. Nothing was left of a once-proud lineage that the bearer of this dagger belonged to. Her parents were gone. Taken by a sickness that had plagued Kanazawa eight years ago. She had a younger sister who had come with her to Edo. A blind sister who could not walk. And she had agreed to do this because she wanted to stay with her sister rather than get married.

"No one would want a wife who came with a crippled sister," she said. The girl was not ashamed of having a cripple in the family--she seemed _proud_ of it. "And I thought--I thought if I could just--"

"It's all right . . . Keep the money," Suzaku said, sick at heart now that he knew what had driven her into accepting such an offer. He had heard of this--of samurai who had fallen and families that had died out over the years. It was another thing to be faced with the direct result of such decay.

"But I--"

"The deal was concluded, see?" He picked up her mother's dagger--it was a real samurai weapon and well-cared for--and nicked his thumb so that a large drop of blood welled up and dripped onto the sheets of the futon. "Luluko- _san_ , thank you for this night. If I might call on you again, I am sure that my uncle will be more than willing to compensate you for your time."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the room of the inn, Luluko had been surprised to see the young samurai. Then realisation dawned upon her that the nobleman had bought her for one of his retainers. The issue of _who_ the man was became moot as her fear overwhelmed her. She should not have brought her mother’s dagger--

But still--to give in like this--to a man who had merely seen her once--

Unconsciously, she had reached for the _kaiken_.

He was fast. So fast that he had her hand pinioned when she had only been clutching at her _kaiken_ seconds earlier. Shocked, then frightened, Luluko had panicked.

He had let her go even though he had the upper hand. But he thought she was an assassin. Why would he think that? _Oh but carrying a dagger to an assignation was not suspicious at all . . ._

Then she was afraid for her life. This man could gut her easily. Samurai had the right to take the heads of commoners who offended them. But she was not a commoner. She had to remember that--and he had her mother’s dagger!

In retrospect, Luluko thought she might have been out of her mind to speak to a high-ranking samurai like that. But he had been more interested in how she had come by the _kaiken_. Bristling, she had told him again--not very politely either. How dare he imply that it was not hers by right!

Then he had badgered her about how she had come to this. How the daughter of a samurai had fallen so low, she supposed. She had not known why she was telling a stranger her life story. But it was somewhat of a relief, to be able to let it out. He had _asked_ after all.

Luluko did not understand what the samurai was saying until he used her mother's knife to cut himself and spoke as though the contract had been fulfilled. And then she could hardly believe it when he said that he was willing to pay to continue this sham relationship. 

"Thank you, but I did not mean to beg for your charity," Luluko began, feeling wholly inadequate to the task of repaying such a massive favour. 

"Samurai should be more frugal. My uncle could contribute a lot more to charity."

"But most of the money will end up with my aunt and uncle," Luluko said before she could stop herself. She sounded like an ungrateful child who begrudged her relatives even that much for taking in Nanari and herself. 

The samurai did not seem to mind this. "So long as it means that they will let you and your sister be, right?"

"Kururugi- _sama_ , this is too much. I cannot accept this without giving you something in return," she said, resolving to be beholden to no-one. For some reason, she did not want his pity or charity. And she had seen how he had stared at her after all . . . She stood and tried not to shake too much as she reached up to undo her _obi_. "So if it pleases you, the original terms of the contract--"

"You could call me by my name," he said, firmly preventing her from removing her _obi_ with one hand on her arm. 

For a moment, Luluko wondered if he was the sort who preferred boys. Then she looked down at his hand. "You're still bleeding, Kururugi- _sama_ \--"

"Suzaku. That’s my name if you’ve forgotten." He did not seem to be offended as she examined the cut.

“I didn’t tell you my story so that you would feel sorry for me,” she muttered as she took out the square of silk tucked up her sleeve and bound it over the small wound. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, but I cannot be indebted to you like this.”

“Then will you keep my secret in return? My uncle thinks I’ve finally started to settle down. He was actually this close to suggesting I go find some younger boys to bugger.” The samurai--Suzaku--smiled grimly. “Keeping a mistress is perfectly acceptable by his standards. It’s just another way of keeping me here in Edo.”

“But _why_ would you want to do this?” Luluko looked away, ashamed by her own brazenness. “I didn’t mean to pry . . .”

“One story deserves another in return,” Suzaku replied, tacitly giving her leave to ask the same question he had. 

Remembering all he had said, Luluko realised the glaring absence of what he had not mentioned. “Your parents . . .”

“My mother died when I was very young,” he said without much emotion. “I didn’t know her at all.

“My father’s death--”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	8. Eight Years Ago

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_\--was an accident._

_It had been an accident._

_He was ten years old and ready to learn the ways of the sword. His teacher said that he needed to practice every day to become stronger._

_His father had an important job in the bureaucracy of the Shogunate. As he was young, Suzaku was not privy to the exact details of his work. But recently, he had been coming back late. He had been especially taciturn that week and by the frown on his face, his mood was turning rapidly foul. Something, somewhere was going wrong._

_His father’s heart was not calm on the day he had accepted Suzaku’s request to watch him demonstrate what his teacher had taught him. A most demanding man, his father had been. It was not enough to entrust his son’s education to other teachers. At home, he would often examine his son’s scholarship and critique his sword forms. He was a hard man to please, his father was._

_And Suzaku so desperately wanted his father’s approval._

_But as usual, his best was not quite enough and his father had stepped off the viewing porch like a god coming down from the mountain to correct him._

_Again, he had said to his son. Show me your mettle. Your sword is a reflection of your soul._

_Although he worked as a bureaucrat, his father was a samurai of the old school. Very traditional._

_Again, you can do better than that._

_Suzaku was tiring, but he did not wish to disappoint his father. Yet he was still determined to prove himself._

_Come at me again. Your form is getting sloppy._

_His father was not as alert as he should have been. The young were unpredictable because they were not rigidly set in their ways. His sword forms were not as regulated as they would have been given a few more years of practice._

_And Suzaku really should have been using a practice blade._

_But who was to know that his feint would get past his father’s guard? Certainly not Suzaku, who stared at his handiwork in a kind of bemused horror._

_Things might have turned out differently if the first person on the scene had not been his uncle. Uncle Masahiro was his mother’s brother. Also a bureaucrat of the Shogunate, he had been showing up more often to meet with his brother-in-law of late for reasons that the adults kept to themselves._

_Upon seeing the frozen tableau, he had run up to check his brother-in-law’s vitals. But even Suzaku knew what a dead man looked like._

_It was his uncle’s actions afterwards that Suzaku would always remember._

_Hastily drawing Suzaku away, Uncle Masahiro had questioned him very carefully. Upon discovering the truth, his uncle had faced him, an almost kind expression on his face._

_Your father’s death should not be in vain. It would be a shame for him to go like this, with so much unfinished business at stake._

_Did he know that his father had been busy? Yes, of course._

_Well, there was some trouble . . . certain things were not where they were supposed to be. Suzaku’s father had been working to resolve the issue, but at the rate things were going, there would be a scandal and it would stain even the high-ranking officials they were working under._

_But if, and just if, his father were to take it upon himself to commit ritual suicide, then all honour would be restored._

_Only later, much later, did Suzaku question the honour of such a request. But by then, it was too late._

_When he was fourteen and older, when he dared to look back into his past, he would remember what his uncle had said._

_When he was fifteen and wiser, he investigated the events surrounding the apparent suicide of his father on his own._

_Five years ago, there had been a matter concerning a tithe of some twenty thousand bushels of rice and several thousand tales of silver in back-taxes. His uncle had been understating the issue of things not being where they were supposed to be. His uncle and father had worked for the same official whose responsibility it was to oversee the accounting of the tithe._

_His uncle had received a promotion not long after the affair had concluded._

_Suzaku chose not to look further. Even if he suspected what lay at the end of that five-year old trail, even if he were to deny his father’s involvement in such an affair . . . Let the dead keep their secrets._

“And so my uncle has been wary of me since I turned sixteen and was not the same boy he could manipulate,” he said to the girl, who had watched him tell his tale with wide eyes. He expected to see her recoil in horror. Be aghast at such an awful and sordid history. But not the flash of anger that kindled such an intense light in her eyes.

“That’s a terrible burden . . . for a ten-year old to carry. Suzaku- _san_ , I would keep your secret even if you had not paid me.”

It seemed that he would have to accept “Suzaku-san” for now. She was the first soul he had unburdened himself on. Someone outside the world of officials, bureaucrats and samurai jockeying for power and prestige. Yet she seemed to understand what he was saying and what he was not saying, for she did not press him for his reasons. 

“That the code of honour was twisted like that, to make use of you when you were that young, that was inexcusable.” She was a samurai’s daughter and she knew what he had been taught. Family honour and honour to their liege lord above all else.

Suzaku had stopped believing in honour years ago.

“Maybe so. Maybe it was better this way. We would never know how it would have ended otherwise.”

“My apologies, I spoke out of turn.”

“I like you better when you were honest, Luluko-san,” Suzaku said. The slight flush on her face was really one of the most attractive things he had the pleasure to witness. “It’s getting late--do you wish to go home?”

She nodded and another hairpin slipped out of her unravelled hairdo, resulting in the rest of it tumbling down around her neck and shoulders. A most unladylike word slipped out and she clapped her hand over her mouth in mortification. Suzaku surprised himself by laughing while she glared at him.

Luluko solved the problem by removing all the pins and tying the mass of hair back in a single tail. She looked younger--and so very lovely. It was fortunate that Suzaku had suggested that they leave the inn. His good intentions would only hold out for so long.

Perhaps he was still trying too hard to be chivalrous, but Suzaku offered to walk her home anyway. As the law stipulated that a man and a woman could not walk together, a woman could only walk two steps behind a man. Which made conversation very awkward, but there was not much to say in public beside the usual platitude about the weather and when the cherry blossoms were expected.

Nearer to Asakusa, she stopped by the bridge over the river and bowed to him. It would not be good for a samurai of his standing to be seen in this neighbourhood so late at night. Suzaku agreed. For her reputation rather than his. 

As for him, he would go back to the Nishinomaru. Perhaps after bothering Toudou- _sensei_ for a cup of tea or something stronger. It might be rude to impose, but Suzaku felt curiously relaxed enough to break with convention for once and subject himself to his teacher’s metaphors for a little while.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	9. Complications

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“It is done then?”

“Indeed, sir. They are at the inn known as the _Cypress Trees ___as we speak.” Yoshida’s grin did not fade, nor did it convey any true mirth. “If sir does not mind, our own transaction has come to an end.”

Rujian-no grunted assent and passed over another wrapped packet of silver tales. They were in a dim corner of the drinking establishment that the procurer frequented for such transactions. 

It occurred to him that Yoshida was a little too discreet. And Kururugi’s uncle and lord were high-ranking enough to have scandals vanish before they could fester properly. Such a trivial matter would be swept under the mat in no time and the brat would come out unscathed.

After a few cups of _sake_ , the samurai realised that what he really wanted was not just embarrassment for the interfering brat and his kin--he really wanted to see Kururugi bleed a little. All right, he wanted to see him bleed _a lot_.

But this would not come to pass unless he took action. Unless he could draw attention to this little affair and blow it sky-high . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * *

On the way back, Luluko bumped into a familiar set of faces, totting their props and drums as usual.

“Luluko- _san_! You weren’t with your elder sister today.” Naruse the drum dancer, singer and musician had hailed her in the middle of the street. He was referring to Oshiitsu, who had been performing that night. Luluko knew that in all probability, shape-eyed Naruse knew she was not Oshiitsu’s “little sister”.

Murmuring something about another appointment, Luluko switched the subject by asking where Oshiitsu and the others were.

“They should be just behind us. Had to entertain one more song request even though it was almost ten,” Naruse said, his tone full of censure for inconsiderate patrons. “If you like, we could wait for them?” 

“Yeah! We sometimes go for a drink afterwards,” Tamaki chipped in and then shrank back slightly from Naruse’s withering glare.

“Very infrequently, in an unofficial capacity,” Naruse said. “Nothing bad or scurrilous, despite the impression given.”

“What he said!”

“I think I will go back home. Thank you for your offer, Naruse- _san_.” While things had turned out the way they had, she was not inclined to face Oshiitsu and the other two so soon. They might not say anything, but their eyes would question.

“So formal . . . we do forget our manners sometimes when we’re amongst our own,” Naruse said. “Mori, take my drums. I’ll see the lady home and meet you all later.”

“I don’t want to trouble you--” Luluko demurred.

“No trouble, there are unsavoury characters afoot these days,” Naruse said, casting a wry look at the mixed bag of performers. “Other than these scoundrels, I mean. You live just east of Asakusa Kannon?”

In the end, Luluko was walking next to Naruse, for he kept slowing down so that they would be level. “It’s not as though people are looking at us now,” he said, nodding at the blank wooden back walls of the street they were walking through. “Protocol can wait until we reach a main thoroughfare.”

“Eh . . . Naruse- _san_? Can I ask you a question?”

“Is it about men? Because I do know something about that,” Naruse said cheerfully, watching her expression change. “Your hair, Luluko- _san_ , is at odds with your very nice kimono. Most men would have no idea of how to get it back to what it looked like before, but with your hair, I think you should go for simpler styles.”

There was not much light illuminating the street, but Luluko thought her face was probably glowing like a torch in the darkness. She was learning that she should be more careful of Oshiitsu’s friends--especially this one.

“But something’s wrong with this picture,” Naruse said. “Unless this man is totally inept at hair and yet can tie an _obi_ perfectly--”

“It wasn’t like that,” she muttered. With some prodding, she told an extremely edited tale of the past few hours.

“You know what, Luluko- _san_? I don’t know if you’re disappointed or not that it fell out that way, but at least he seems decent,” Naruse said. “Some men--”

He paused abruptly and held up a hand to stop her as they came to a junction. A moment later, she heard it too--footsteps coming down the street around the corner. Naruse motioned her back into the shadows of the wall.

It was a group of men, just over half a dozen of them if her hearing was accurate. They were not the official night patrols or _doushin_. Then one particular voice caught her attention.

“--but I cannot guarantee their whereabouts now, good sir. Unless we go back to the inn--” That was the procurer--Yoshida.

“Then we’ll wait for him along the way to the _Nishninomaru_. He’ll have to pass by on the way back,” a gruffer voice interrupted. “What was he wearing?”

“Sir, this is highly irregular--”

“Just tell me!”

“Under protest, sir. Very plainly dressed. Dark-coloured _hakama_. carrying _daishou_ , no hat.” Yoshida sounded harassed.

“That could be _anyone_ ,” another voice said.

“But very few samurai would be returning along that road so late. We’ll wait for the brat then and strike when he least expects it.”

“My part here is done, sir, I take my leave of you--”

“Take yourself far away if you know what’s good for you.” 

The short exchange and the footsteps faded away after a few moments. 

“Now _those_ are shady characters,” Naruse muttered as they emerged from the side street carefully. “I think I’ve seen some of those men in the Yoshiwara before.”

“What do they do?”

“Nothing much. They’re bravos for hire, thieves and the like,” Naruse said. “And the procurer is a slimy bit of business--”

“That man, the procurer--he was talking about--” Luluko broke off and started to hurry back down the way they had come from.

“Yoshida? Luluko-san! Where are you going?” Naruse had to chase after her.

“I’m going to warn him--”

“Who is _he_ supposed to be-- _oh_ . . .” Naruse caught up with her at the next turn. “But do you know where your man is?”

“He said he was going somewhere in Fukugawa to visit someone!”

“Oi, oi, surely it’s easier to find him when he’s coming back than running all the way to Fukugawa?”

“You’re right . . .” Pausing in her headlong dash, Luluko realized that she was not really thinking straight. She had no idea where he was. And she could not cover all that much ground on her own—

“Help is on the way,” Naruse said, going on ahead. “All we have to do is find the others now and we’ll all search for him!”

Bewildered, Luluko ran after him. “But I can’t ask you to get involved--”

“I’ve never done a heroic rescue when it’s the girl trying to save the boy before! You have to give this poor actor a chance to live out a real life drama!”

“Are you drunk?”

“No--more’s the pity. Ah, _there_ they are.” Naruse pointed ahead. The rest of his drumming troop and assorted performers waved at them. 

“All right, who’s up for a heroic rescue?”

“Naruse, are you taking the piss?”

“Luluko! What in the world is happening?” Kallen popped up at the back. Oshiitsu and Kaguya pushed their way forwards.

“We’re going to help Luluko- _san_ track down her young man, who may be in danger from suspicious characters,” Naruse announced grandiosely.

“He doesn’t look like he’s been drinking . . .”

“Luluko, what is he babbling about?” Oshiitsu asked, leaning closer to the visibly out of breath girl.

“I--I’m trying to find him, Suzaku- _san_ \--before he reaches the _Nishnomaru_ . . . Some men are waiting to ambush him . . .” Breathing hard, she rested her hands on her knees. Time was surely running out . . .

“Are you sure?”

“I heard it with my own ears--those men were up to no good!”

“You’re an actor, Naruse, you exaggerate everything,” Oshiitsu said. “Well then, what are you going to do? Naruse might make pretty speeches, but he’s absolutely useless in planning anything other than a play.”

“You wound me--”

Ignoring the others for the moment, Luluko stared at the ground, thinking hard. She did not even know what the area near the castle looked like. “Does anyone know how to approach the _Nishinomaru_ from the east?”

“I do. Not so useless after all, eh?” Naruse said, bending to scratch out a rough map with the end of his fan. “There are three bridges over the moat from the city proper on the east side of Edo Castle. Assuming that your young man is coming from Fukugawa, he would probably be passing through Edobashi--”

“Which is only the most densely populated neighbourhood in the city,” Oshiitsu pointed out.

“If we cover the main roads from the east to the three bridges, it can be done.” Luluko looked around the motley crew of performers and realised that most of them looked as excited as Naruse. “I mean, if you--”

“Of course! People are a lot less suspicious of actors running around at odd hours. We’re rootless, disreputable types,” Naruse said. “We’ll split up into three groups and go from here.” 

“Ignore him. This probably is the most interesting thing that’s happened to them in a long time,” Oshiitsu murmured to Luluko as Naruse started organising. 

It took a few more moments to actually arrange a more practical plan with a description of the person in question, fixing on a meeting point to gather at three hours later and divide themselves into search parties. Kaguya declared that the ladies would take the roads leading to the northernmost bridge and dragged Luluko off with them.

“Kaguya- _san_ , you seem very sure,” Luluko said as they hurried south towards the Yamanote.  
“I have a very strong suspicion that we’ll find him first this way.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Women’s intuition?” 

Oshiitsu rolled her eyes and Kallen snorted.

“Oh all right--by your description, he’s my cousin Suzaku,” Kaguya said, holding up her robes in both hands in order to match Kallen and Luluko’s longer strides they left the familiar environs of Asakusa. “And the address is about right. He serves one of the lords living in the _Nishinomaru_ ”

“Your _cousin_?”

“Such a strange coincidence . . . you’ll have to tell us all about it, but first we have to save him so that I can embarrass him and hold it over him forever,” Kaguya said. 

Luluko tried not to notice as Oshiitsu and Kallen looked hard at her.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	10. Edobashi

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Toudou- _sensei_ was still up when Suzaku paid a call. He was also fairly bored, for he accepted Suzaku’s offer of a drink. His housekeeper told--implored Suzaku secretly to make sure Toudou- _sensei_ did not overdo it. His mentor apparently did not hold his liquor that well.

They had to head west toward Edobashi in order to find establishments that were open at this hour. After about three cups, Toudou- _sensei_ was already talking about having Suzaku spar with him to see how far he had progress.

“See? The thing is--the thing is, you don’t know what you’re fighting for,” Toudou- _sensei_ was saying. “When that happens, you lack the edge. That’s what determines if you win or lose.” 

“But, Sensei, there’s no-one to fight. There are no wars, no invasions--”

“Many changes can take place within a man’s lifespan, Suzaku. I do not wish for war, but change is ever constant.” Toudou- _sensei_ looked rather morose at that moment and Suzaku tactfully suggested that they should make a move.

Outside the small shop, the streets were not entirely deserted at this hour given the nature of Edobashi. What Suzaku was not expecting to see was a familiar figure on the street ahead.

“Jino?” Suzaku squinted and looked harder. There was no mistaking Jino, who was unusually tall and stood out in the almost empty street like a signpost. “Jino!”

“Suzaku! What are you doing here?” Jino asked, obviously surprised.

Suzaku groaned inwardly. Not a horse trough. A dunking in the moat might be in order. “What are you doing out here without a bodyguard?”

“I told you to take the night off. And it was just a short trip to the Yoshiwara. To see a _sumo_ wrestling match,” Jino said, not very convincingly.

 _And when were you interested in sumo wrestling?_ Suzaku almost asked, then thought better of it. He was in no position to talk. Not tonight. He managed a brief but sufficient introduction between his charge and his former teacher. Then he was faced with a dilemma.

“I should go with him--” Suzaku was torn between doing his duty and escorting Jino back to his residence and fulfilling his earlier promise to see that Toudou- _sensei_ made it home in one piece.

“It’s all right, Suzaku, this old warhorse can take care of himself,” Toudou- _sensei_ said.

“You should see your teacher home, Suzaku, we’re already very close to the castle,” Jino said, encouraging him to be respectful to his mentor. 

“Or we could all walk back to the Castle first. A longer walk might clear my head.” Toudou- _sensei_ was prompting him to do his proper duty.

Suzaku had to accept his mentor’s offer. Just as long as Jino did not spill everything about this night in front of Toudou- _sensei_. Lord or no lord, someone could “accidentally” wind up in the moat.

The streets grew emptier as they headed for the Castle. It was already past midnight and Suzaku was not expecting to find anyone aside from the odd merchant closing up his shop front and drunks meandering their way home from the pleasure district. Certainly not the small group who hurried out from a side street and headed right for them. Suzaku had his hand on his short sword before he realised that they were four women.

“Luluko- _san_?” With two other women he recognised vaguely as _geisha_ from that night at the Yoshiwara. And his cousin. 

It occurred to Suzaku that he could drop himself into the moat and be saved the inevitable mortification.

“Oh, isn’t that the girl--” Jino clapped a hand over his own mouth, proving that he was not that oblivious and had some sense of self-preservation.

“Suzaku! We’ve been looking for you for almost an hour!” Kaguya said as they came to a halt in front of him. She managed to make it sound like an accusation.

“Kaguya, what is the matter?”

“I should let the one who insisted that we find you tell the story,” she said, nudging Luluko.

“Suzaku- _san_ , on the way back, I overheard some men talking to Yoshida,” Luluko managed to say despite her breathlessness. “They mean to wait for you on the way back to the castle.”

“What kind of trouble are you in now, cousin?” Kaguya asked. “The waters in Edo are pretty rough, you know?”

“But I haven’t--”

“He doesn’t actually notice,” Jino said. “It’s a sad failing in a samurai of his station. Before we go on, I’m Jino and Suzaku here is very grateful that you took the trouble to warn him. Right?”

Suzaku was much too distracted to notice that Jino’s grin was directed at one person in particular. “How many men and what do they want?”

“About half a dozen. And I don’t know what they wanted with you. It just sounded bad.”

“Honest men do not lie in wait for others at this time of night,” Toudou- _sensei_ added. “I suggest we turn the tables on these would-be assassins.”

“Capital! So what’s the plan, Suzaku?” Jino asked.

The look on the faces at least three of the four women present could be summed up quite succinctly as _Men_. Suzaku could not, in all honesty, fault them. He was ready to march around the long way to the Great Gate on the north side of the castle to deliver Jino back home. A noble had no place in an ambush or street brawl. Nor did his mildly inebriated mentor. Or the four women, one of whom was the only relative he was actually fond of and another was--

“We get you back to the castle, my cousin and her friends back to where they live and Toudou- _sensei_ back home, Suzaku said. It was going to be a very, very long night.

“But what about you? I mean, you’re the one who is being targeted, cousin,”

“When you were younger, you would have had no qualms about charging in,” Toudou- _sensei_ said reasonably. The effects of the _sake_ were wearing off. “I understand your concerns, but should you not try to find out who has it in for you and what they want?”

“We’re armed and we expecting them,” Gino said. “Doesn’t that mean the advantage is our side?”

“Three against half a dozen is not a fair fight. And I mean we’re at a disadvantage.” Suzaku was less concerned with their own state of preparedness and more worried about what a band of footpads would be bearing. While they had their blades, even a good katana could easily be broken by iron staffs or clubs. In the decades of relative peace, samurai had drawn their swords less and less often. The blades that they carried were basically antiques.

“Since Suzaku here has finally learned a bit of sense, then we should be going now,” Kaguya announced. “No need to see us home, cousin. We’ll manage.”

Suzaku did not fail to catch that arch look she shot his way. Alone, he would have done what Toudou- _sensei_ had accused his younger self of.

But fate had decreed that things would not go his way that night. Off to the street on the left, there was a sudden commotion. Shouts were heard.

“Oh no,” Kaguya muttered. “We might have found you, but the others might have found trouble.”

“Eh? There are others? Well that should even out the odds,” Jino said. A sheltered life could be the only explanation for why he looked so excited to get into a scrap.

“They’re _actors_ , not soldiers,” one of the other dancers said, immediately moving off in the direction of the noise. “Naruse is an idiot when it comes to things like this--”

To Suzaku’s surprise, the other women followed her lead. And so did Jino.

“You may be outnumbered this time, Suzaku,” Toudou- _sensei_ said, nudging him gently in the ribs. “You’ve got to watch your friend’s back and defend your own honour.”

“Yes.” When this was over, Jino was going to have to learn to swim in full armour in the moat. And he would drag his cousin back to Kyoto on foot if he had to.

Suzaku was in an unpleasant frame of mind when he arrived at the scene on Jino’s heels. One street away, there were some men being chased by a pair of men wielding short mental truncheons and when they got closer, he could see that some were clad in the garb of entertainers and were not carrying weapons. Those were the ones being chased.

The taller dancer stepped right in and tripped up one of the pursuers by aiming one clog-shod foot right at his kneecap. There was a sickening crunch and the man fell over. Which brought his head in range of her lacquered clogs.

The other armed man turned belatedly at this new threat and found himself next to the other woman.

In a movement that was too fast to follow, she had whipped out a long hairpin and stabbed downwards, doing the damage that no amount of rhino’s horn or dried antelope testicles would cure.

“Oh ow,” Jino muttered in sympathy as the other man keeled over screaming. From the buildings around them, one light and then another appeared behind screened windows. They had woken up the neighbourhood, but people were unlikely to come out and involve themselves in a brawl.

“I told you we could manage,” Kaguya said from where she and Luluko were standing by the side and clearly not getting involved.

“Stay there,” Suzaku growled, scanning the side streets intently. There were supposed to be half a dozen men. The element of surprise was gone now unless they mistook the screaming for one of the actors they had been chasing.

“Naruse, what in the world did you do?” the woman with the dangerously long hairpins demanded of one of the men who had been running.

“Well, I might have unwisely challenged them when I spotted a few familiar faces,” the man named Naruse began.

“You idiot! What about the others?”

“Er, they should be running this way soon. We split up to confuse them,” Naruse said. “Speak of the devil--Tamaki! Over here!”

Another bunch of runners appeared at the end of the street. Their pursuers looked to be around the correct number to complete the set.

“Finally, we get a turn! Suzaku, our manhood is at stake here!”

“Jino, they’re carrying iron truncheons, unless you can get the first strike in--”

“What, you mean this sword is no good?”

“Oh, I see! Here you go, young man!” Naruse said, tossing over his sword. It was a _kabuki_ sword meant for the stage, Suzaku realised as he caught it instinctively. But it was made of reasonably sturdy and dense wood. This would do. Suzaku had no intention of killing anyone and he should, by right keep, them alive for questioning, but it did not mean that he was going to go easy on them.

He muttered his thanks and adjusted his grip on the wooden blade. It was the right weight. Almost like a practice sword.

“That’s not fair--” Jino was heard to protest, but Suzaku had already started his attack. The lead runners had the sense to dodge around him or throw themselves to the side, leaving the way clear for him to meet the first assailant--

\--Who could not bring his short iron staff up in time to defend himself. Suzaku’s wooden blade caught him across the chin. Then he swung back, striking the man solidly in the side. One down. 

The others were more prepared for him and they spaced themselves out around him. They looked like rough men as Luluko and Naruse had said. And honest men did not mask themselves with dark cloth and lie in wait with iron truncheons. Toudou- _sensei_ was stating the obvious.

They did try to distract him while one of their number attacked from behind. Narrowly dodging a blow from a staff that would have brained him, he struck out and connected with an arm. Its owner reeled away, cursing. These were not trained fighters, but they knew their way in a street brawl. And this was rapidly disintegrating into one--

“Suzaku, you glory-hog!” Jino had waded in, laying about him with his still sheathed blade. “Don’t go off to a fight without me!”

“Only if you can keep up!” It was probably useless to keep Jino out of the fray, Suzaku thought as he deflected a blow from an iron staff. He could only keep him from getting his head bashed in now—

“Suzaku!” Kaguya’s voice cut through the other noises and Suzaku immediately turned to track it. “There’s another one here--”

There was a man in front of him. In his way.

A scream rang out in the night air. It was definitely female.

Suzaku’s focus narrowed as he dashed forward. There was just one moment to draw and--

He did not even look at the man he had struck down as he ran towards the scream.

At the mouth of the narrow alley, Kaguya was pulling herself up with the aid of the wall. She looked like she had a close encounter with the ground.

“Suzaku, hurry!” she gasped, gesturing frantically behind her. “Luluko--”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	11. Blood on the ground

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Kaguya and Luluko had backed away from the fight and taken refuge in a narrow side street hemmed in by the wooden walls of the shops around them. They watched the clash between the samurai and his would-be attackers from around the corner.

Luluko knew that her anxiety was showing, for Kaguya patted her arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, for all his grumpiness, my cousin is a good swordsman. Suzaku won’t let anyone get hurt--”

“Oh really?” Behind them, another menacing figure emerged from the shadows that lined the street.

“Suzaku! There’s another one here--” Kaguya was knocked aside as easily as a fly being swatted. Her diminutive frame was no challenge for the man who now eyed Luluko speculatively.

“You should stay out of men’s business,” he growled.

He sounded like the leader of that band of men from before, but he bore the arms of a samurai. She remembered what Kaguya had asked earlier on. What kind of trouble had Suzaku got into?

“You! You must be the woman Yoshida hired for him,” the samurai said, a rather vile grin appearing on his face as he stepped forward. “It will certainly be a scandal if his mistress’ brutally-murdered corpse is found in the morning outside the castle gates.”

Seeing his obvious intent, Luluko wasted no time in turning to run. But like Suzaku, this was not a soft bureaucratic samurai. She screamed when he caught her by the collar of her kimono and dragged her towards him.

“A lively one, eh? I should like a taste of you before--”

His breath was hot in her ears and Luluko was not actually thinking anymore as she unsheathed the dagger hidden in her _obi_ , half-turned and slashed wildly at her assailant. 

“Bitch!” he swore as he shoved her aside and clutched at the wound on his forearm. 

Luluko briefly regretted that it had not been a more lethal wound as he started for her again. She had caught him by surprise before--it would not work this time, she could see from the murderous rage in his eyes as he drew his short sword. Her mother’s dagger seemed very small right now.

Time seemed to slow as the blade flashed towards her. If she could just deflect it with her _kaiken_ \--

_Thwack!_

The short sword was struck aside by a wooden blade. Its back swing disarmed the wielder and then there was someone else between her and her would-be murderer. 

“Suzaku- _san_!”

“This has gone too far,” he addressed the other samurai. “I am of the mind to make you pay for this with more than just blood, but leave this city and you might just live.”

The other man snarled an obscenity, but retreated backwards. There had been too much noise and commotion. The night watch would be coming around and not a moment too soon.

“Suzaku- _san_?” Luluko ventured when the samurai remained glaring down the alley where the other man had vanished into. It had barely been ten minutes since they had arrived on the scene, but it seemed like a lot of time had passed since then.

He turned abruptly and she jumped ever so slightly. There had been something terrible in his face just now, but it was gone in a flash as he saw the blood on her kimono sleeve.

“It’s all his,” she said reassuringly as he tried to check if she was injured.

“That’s--that’s all right then,” Suzaku said, obviously relieved. Gently taking the _kaiken_ from her, he wiped the blood off and examined it for damage before returning it to her. “Take care of this.”

“Of course,” Luluko said, suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating. She tried to tell herself that it was because she had been that close to death. Not because his hands were still folded around hers over the sheathed dagger.

“Luluko!” The other two dancers, supporting Kaguya between them, turned the corner. “Thank goodness you’re safe!”

“Aa, Suzaku-san chased the other man away,” Luluko said. They had moved their hands apart the moment they heard the others and she hoped that the darkness hid her face. “Is everyone all right?”

“All taken care of, but then again--”

“We should get going before the _doushin_ arrive. Exciting as this was, none of us want to be exhaustively questioned,” Oshiitsu said. They were entertainers and one of the lowest ranking castes in the city. The forces that policed Edo did not view them kindly at all.

“I see. I’ll handle their questions,” Suzaku said. “Take care of my cousin.”

“I’m all right. Just a fall. See you again, cousin,” Kaguya said, disentangling herself to show that she could still walk on her own.

“Luluko- _san_ \--”

“Thank you for s--”

“No, we’re even now. Your warning came in time,” he said. “Now you should go before the _doushin_ appear.”

Unsure of what to do, she bowed briefly and trailed after the others. Like before, she could feel him watching her back as she hurried away.

“That was the best night’s entertainment ever,” Naruse said to the others when they were well away from the scene of the night’s madness.

“You would think almost getting killed by hired thugs was entertaining,” Oshiitsu muttered as they meandered their way through the night-time streets. They had to dodge night watchmen twice until Kaguya judged them to be far away enough to be discounted as having anything to do with the excitement down in Edobashi.

“But it is the stuff of tales and legends! Someday, people will write plays about it! Will you write a song about it, Oshiitsu- _san_?”

“You owe me a new hairpin and that information I asked for earlier.”

“Your older sister is so cold, Luluko- _chan_ ” Naruse said dramatically as he fell back to where Luluko was trudging along behind the others. It had been a long night.

“It has been a rather frightening night, Naruse- _san_.”

“Oh yes, you poor thing . . . but you saved your young man and he saved you. It is rather romantic . . .”

Looking at the ground, Luluko tried to suppress the surge of heat that was threatening to make her blush again. “I wouldn’t know . . .”

Naruse quirked an eyebrow at her. “Hmmm . . . If he liked men and I liked the strong and dutiful sort, I’d go for him.”

“Naruse- _san_ , you do like to joke around.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was very simple, after the whole thing, to edit his version of the tale when the night watchmen made their belated appearance on the scene that contained a number of downed thugs lying groaning on the street. The officials did wonder about the nature of some of the wounds, which did not appear to be congruent with a beating administered with sheathed swords.

 _A pair of women’s clogs and a hair pin_ was not the expected answer.

Jino kept his mouth shut for most of it, which allowed Suzaku to tell a mostly truthful account of escorting the noble back to Edo Castle. There had been armed men preying on unarmed civilians--as a samurai from the clan of a _hatamoto_ , it had been his duty to restore order. The civilians had fled for their lives--a practical and mostly understandable reaction as the criminals were armed. Fortunately, he had his _kendou_ tutor with him and they were able to quell the riff-raff.

With two such impeccable witnesses, there was not much the _doushin_ could do except to take the hired thugs to the lock-up and see the young nobleman to the Castle gates, apologising all the way for the delay that kept them from their rightful rest. 

Returning to his uncle’s residence, Suzaku did not believe that there would be much trouble coming from the samurai he had warned off. No samurai would admit to such doings. Not unless they wanted to undergo ritual suicide to erase the stain on their lord’s honour, which was the only thing to do in such a situation. As he did not expect the man to hold to honour, the only way out was to leave Edo under a cloud.

Suzaku exerted his rank for the first time in many years and roused some servants in his uncle's house to open up a guest room so that Toudou-sensei could be saved a walk back to Fukugawa at that ungodly hour. He could feel guilty for that later.

"Well, that was something," the older man had said before retiring, pausing to clap a hand on Suzaku's shoulder. "That draw was perfect--almost textbook--I can retire in peace now."

If Suzaku had not known any better, he could have sworn his former teacher was getting emotional.

It was harder for him to go to sleep after the sudden, swift violence of the fight in that dark street. If he had not held an actor's wooden blade at that time . . .

He tried to mediate then, opening the doors of his room to the small garden of raked pebbles outside which was supposedly conducive to contemplation. The only witness was a lone black cat that padded up and sat down to stare at him. He found himself staring back and the cat, tiring of human foolishness, had bitten him as most felines were wont to do after five minutes in his presence.

Taking that as a sign that he was definitely being too morose, he retreated back to bed to wring as much rest as he could before the next day. 

The next morning, Suzaku glumly reflected that there was no justice in this world as he watched Toudo- _sensei_ tuck into breakfast with a will. The man was twenty years his senior and he seemed to be doing fine after a limited amount of sleep. He thanked Suzaku for his hospitality, said something cryptic about it being “the spring time of youth” and departed--his housekeeper would have a conniption if he did not return soon.

In a much less jaunty mood, Suzaku trudged across to the _Nishinomaru_ where the residences of the _daimiyo_ and nobles were. To his surprise, Jino was not intending to go anywhere that day.

Directed by the valet, Suzaku found Jino sprawled across the floor at the foot of a table in his family’s library, brush in hand. The fruits of his morning’s labours lay scattered over the table and on the floor on realms of paper. Someone had been up early. Truly, there was no justice in this world.

"Jino, what are you trying to write?"

"Something like a letter and a poem and declaration of love all mixed together?" Jino looked at his accomplishments and tapped his brush against his cheek. "Maybe I should just preface the letter with one of the better poems?"

Suzaku shrugged. "I have no ear for poetry, so don't ask me to choose one for you."

"You're so helpful as always, Suzaku," Jino said, sitting upright. "And what about you, eh? Shouldn't you be thanking that nice girl who ran all the way to warn you at the risk of her own life?"

“Haven’t we done enough for her already?” Suzaku bit out. That had come out more harshly than he had intended. Or perhaps it was a truer echo of his discontent than he knew. According to social mores and the stricter code of her class, she was a ruined woman.

Jino, however, was in a forgiving mood. “Someone’s grumpy this morning. Didn’t get much sleep?”

And so the matter simmered, unresolved.

Suzaku managed to put it out of his mind for a day, then two days--three . . .

Then while out in the city on his uncle’s business, he saw her again near the fish markets bordering the river. By some coincidence, he had spotted her out of the corner of his eye. A figure pushing a small handcart along the side of the street, one of the hundreds of pedestrians thronging the marketplace on a busy morning.

They passed each other like strangers. The woman in her plain kimono with a smaller girl in the handcart--the crippled sister she paraded around without shame. There was no reason for either of them to address each other on the street. Nothing that would not set off a blaze of rumour and supposition.

Perhaps it was guilt or a sense of responsibility that prompted him to pen a letter later that day. It had reached the second page before he stopped, looked it over and realised that this was exactly the kind of round-about overly-formal excuse of a letter that he disliked receiving from other people.

The second attempt sounded too casual. The third could have been written by Jino. 

And his cousin would probably see it first. Suzaku had little faith that any missive he sent through Kaguya would make it to its destination without a short detour in front of her eyes.

He wrote two lines on a fresh sheet of paper, sealed the message and dropped it off at the anonymous musician’s house while he was delivering a message for his uncle. Before he could regret it, Suzaku walked away quickly.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	12. Shitamachi

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the chill grey light of another spring morning, the events of the previous night seemed like a very strange dream indeed. Luluko had barely remembered getting back home. It had been so late that even her aunt had turned in rather than wait for her return.

Aunt Kaede did not rouse her even when the sun was high in the sky. It was _abnormal_. And it made her realise that something had changed.

When Nanari had asked, Luluko muttered something about feeling ill.

“She did stay out rather late last night,” Kaguya said to Nanari. “She probably not used to it.”

“Poor _Nee-san_. Shall I ask Aunt Kaede if you can have porridge for lunch?”

From the narrow doorway, Oshiitsu and Kallen looked on. 

This was the problem with a female-dominated household, Luluko thought as she tried to block out the presence of the others. Everyone except her uncle and sister would be _curious_. Aunt Kaede because she would want to know if her liaison would be more than just a single night’s transaction. Kallen, Kaguya and Oshiitsu because they had been there last night and knew something was different.

Her sister’s presence was the only thing preventing a barrage of questions from coming her way.

She had to get out of bed eventually to take care of certain necessary body functions. Pushing back the door ever so gently so as not to make a noise, Luluko made a run for it.

And almost ran into Kallen, Kaguya and Oshiitsu as she reached the backyard. Swallowing a shriek of surprise, she nervously wondered why the three of them were lurking behind the back door.

“We should be asking the questions here!” Kallen said.

“Are you all right?” Oshiitsu asked.

“I-I can’t say!” Luluko said, backing away in the direction of the toilet.

“All right, we’ll hold back . . . for now,” Kaguya said, holding up her arms as though she could stop Oshiitsu and Kallen from physically following her to the privy. “Maybe you need time to settle yourself.”

“Eh? I thought you were dying to know,” Kallen said in surprise when they had backed off.

“She means that we should wait. I give her until tomorrow before she cracks,” Oshiitsu said.

“My cousin . . . is not a bad man,” Kaguya said carefully. “Though he can get remarkably stubborn if it involves his honour. I will have to see about this . . .”

Oshiitsu’s prediction was a little off. Luluko was waiting up for them later that night, having ensured that Nanari was asleep and her aunt and uncle were doing the same.

There were plenty of interruptions as Kallen and Kaguya cut in a various points. A muttered swear-word was heard from Oshiitsu when she told her about telling Naruse.

“What? So _nothing_ happened?” Kallen sat back on her heels, a befuddled look on her face. “So all that running around last night was the only trouble?”

“You told Naruse first?” Oshiitsu asked. “I cannot believe that you’d tell a boy-fancier first.”

Kaguya looked more relieved than anything else. 

“He still owes you. You’re . . . well, you know,” Kallen said. “It’s not like you weren’t affected.”

And Luluko did know. Her aunt had got her in private that evening and demanded to know her likely prospects. She had got away with a vague answer about potential future communications. 

“It’s not like she’s going to parade down the street like courtesan,” Kaguya said. “Or change the length of her sleeves to advertise.”

“It’s all right. Like this, I mean,” Luluko said. “As long as I can be here with Nanari, it’s all right. Aunt Kaede didn’t even tell me to do the laundry tomorrow.”

“You’re too easily satisfied,” Kallen said, but she let it be. It was hard enough making a living as performer, much less a female dependent on the goodwill of relatives.

Her aunt did drag her out to the shrine the next day to pray for better fortune. Luluko was not entirely certain one was supposed to ask the gods for that kind of thing, so she prayed instead for her sister’s health.

While she was spared the laundry, Aunt Kaede was still not willing to let her hands go idle. Luluko was pushed out to the front of the shop in a presentable kimono to help her uncle, a job she had done sometimes when they were short-handed. It was boring work, fetching materials to and fro for customers who wanted clothes made.

“Luluko, help me get that bolt of material on the back shelf--yes, that brocade--”

Her uncle was probably only guilty of not standing up to his wife. Then again the shop and its related interests had been inherited from her aunt’s side of the family, so his attitude was understandable. Other than that, he was a largely inoffensive character who just happened to be married to her aunt.

“Luluko, take food to the workshop--”

At noon, she took lunch to the workers at the shop a few houses away. They were about a dozen weavers and tailors in her uncle’s employ and she was fairly familiar with them. 

“It smells like your cooking today! Thank goodness!” Harada- _san_ , the nominal foreman of the small workshop, took charge of the baskets. “Not to speak badly of others, but your aunt does skimp on the seasonings . . .”

“I know,” Luluko said, embarrassed on behalf of her relatives. “I’ll take back the baskets now and come back for the pots later, Harada- _san_.”

“All right--” Harada’s distribution of food was interrupted by the appearance of men at the door of the workshop.

“What is happening? This is private property, sir!”

The men who pushed Harada out of the way were _doushin_ by the look of their dress and the swords they carried.

“Sir, I must ask your business!” Harada was putting on a brave front, but there was little he could do when the _doushin_ were involved.

“Vice raid. Illegal activities have been reported in the area,” said the man who looked like the one in charge. “We are in the process of rounding up illegal prostitutes--”

“That’s the bathhouse across the street and the teahouse next door!” Harada pointed out.

“Nevertheless, all women on these premises are to be detained,” the officious _doushin_ said, waving the official warrant. “Stand aside.”

“You’ve made a mistake--” However, Harada and the other men were helpless as the _doushin_ herded Luluko and the three women who worked as weavers out the door.

What in the world did one do in a situation like this? Emiko, who had been an apprentice until a month ago, looked ready to go into hysterics as the women were pushed together with others from the surrounding buildings. She had a death grip on Luluko’s arm, but as there was nothing to be done, the older girl bore up with it as they were jostled together with some women who did, in truth, look rather slatternly from the sloppy way their kimono were tied.

“Oh, Harada- _san_ ’s running to fetch your uncle!” said Naomi, who had been working for her uncle for over two years. “I hope he can clear this up--before it’s too late--”

“Too late for what?” Luluko craned her neck to see Harada racing down the street. But they were being led away now.

Mai, the eldest and most sensible amongst them, looked pale with fear. “Luluko- _chan_ , we’ll get sent to the Yoshiwara!”

“I mean, surely my uncle would--” She had a mental image of her uncle flailing ineffectually at the doors of the magistrate’s office. Of all the times to wish that her Aunt was her Uncle instead.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the kitchen of the house, a pot was on the stove, its contents steaming away in readiness for lunch. A figure stole up to it discreetly, found that its height was lacking and returned with a small stool in order to perch upon it and thrust a sealed missive above the steam.

Like nectar to bees, such activities attracted unwanted attention. Kallen wandered past with a pair of _geta_ in hand, paused and poked her head in.

“What are you up to now?” she asked Kaguya.

“Up to?” Kaguya asked innocently.

“That doesn’t look like it’s addressed to _you_ ,” Kallen said, peering at the missive she held.

“Details,” Kaguya began.

“--Are important.” Like a ghost, Oshiitsu had materialised at Kallen’s elbow. “For instance, who might that letter be for?”

“Geh! Don’t sneak up on people like that!” 

“It’s for Luluko- _chan_ , from my bone-headed cousin. So it’s my business after all.” Kaguya hopped off the stool nimbly and eased the wax seal open.

“Half the going-ons in Kyoto and Edo are your business,” Oshiitsu said dryly. “So what does it say?”

“My!” Kaguya said after reading it. “I didn’t know my cousin had it in him!”

“What?” Kallen took the letter form Kaguya and scanned it. " _I would like to see you again. Apologies for the trouble caused. Suzaku._ Eh? What is this?"

"This is as good as a love letter, two full-length poems and a lover's token from my cousin!"

Seeing the doubtful looks from Oshiitsu and Kallen, Kaguya waved her hands irritably. "So the he's a little slow to wake up to the possibilities--it's not all his fault . . . He thinks--he _knows_ that it's all going to arranged for him so he doesn't even try."

"That was why I was wondering where his balls were," Kallen said dryly.

"Slow development is better than no development." Kaguya carefully resealed the letter, examined it and was satisfied that it looked mostly untouched. “Anyhow here’s something for the girl to think about--”

"What's that noise?" Oshiitsu leaned out of the backdoor. The neighbours were gossiping over the fence in the backyard. Something about their movements hinted that this was a lot more exciting than so-and-so buying a new set of chickens or so-and-so having an affair with her-down-the-road.

The neighbour leaned over, almost bursting with the need to share the news with more people. "It's terrible! There's a vice raid going on!"

"Vice raid?"

"Closing down teahouses and bathhouses in the area and rounding up illegal prostitutes," the ever informative neighbour told them.

"They do that often enough in Kyoto, along the riverside. They called it _catching nighthawks_ ," Oshiitsu said.

"But how do they know which places are illegal cat-houses?" Kallen asked. She had not seen a vice raid in Edo before. To be sure, the district they resided in had its fair share of bathhouses and teahouses that sold more than baths and tea. 

"Mostly by people collaborating with the authorities," Oshiitsu said, giving the neighbour a hard look.

Their neighbour looked defensive. “None of us are sneaks. It’s hard enough to get by without the Shogunate clamping down on everything. Of course, you didn’t hear me say that,” she muttered, looking left and right furtively.

The women turned again as they heard another commotion at the front of the house. Wooden walls carried noise rather well and they made it to the scene just as Harada from the workshop burst in.

“It’s bad, Boss! They’ve taken the women--and your niece!”

Odou looked flummoxed. “Who--”

But Odou’s question as answered a moment later when the _doushin_ came by. There was much panic on the part of the merchant, who assured the enforcers that his was a legitimate clothing and cloth-making business with much hand-waving and cold sweat. The performers housed here were, of course, only singers and dancers--nothing more--

It took some wrangling, some waving of Oshiitsu’s passage token and name-dropping of the very important people who had been her clients before they would leave them alone. Kaguya, having disinherited herself, could not quite pull rank and in the end, they could only get the name of the magistrate to see about redeeming the women.

“This won’t do . . .” Kaguya looked troubled as Odou did a very good impression of a chicken with its head chopped off in the background. He was either worried about how to fix this situation or worried about explaining it to his wife. “That _hatamoto_ is notoriously good at accepting bribes and little else.”

“So do we rustle up some money or what?”

"I don't think we have that kind of money. Not even they do," Kaguya said, gesturing back at the foreman and the merchant. "And it’s not our place to fatten the purses of officials. It's time, I think, to do things in a less orthodox way. And no, Kallen--I don't mean go cut a few throats."

“Oh good, blood is so hard to get out of clothes,” Oshiitsu said sardonically.

“We just need to find someone--”

“Ano, is anything the matter? I heard the noise . . .” Everyone froze as the screen door slid open and Nanari pulled herself out. The walls were very thin and while she was blind, her sense of hearing was very acute. And though she was crippled, it was not as though she was incapable of moving around the house.

“Well, there’s been a bit of a mistake,” Kaguya began. “But you shouldn’t worry about it--we’ll find a way to sort it out--”

“Is this about _Nee-san_? What happened?” the girl asked anxiously.

“She’s--she’s been detained.” After hesitating for a fraction of a second, Kaguya opted for honesty. “But it’ll be sorted out, I’m sure.”

“Is Uncle going to get her back?”

“He’s going to try,” Kaguya hedged. “Now if I can speak to someone I know, things might move a little faster, all right, Nana- _chan_?”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	13. Intrigue (and then some)

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Suzaku, for once in a fairly long time, found himself at leisure to do what he pleased for the day. His uncle had no need of his services that day as he was busy with other things and Jino--well, he had been acting oddly of late. _Suzaku, take the day off!_ or _Could you just find something else to do? You're always so uptight!_

Well, odder than usual for he seemed to be urging Suzaku to leave him alone. So Suzaku, rather than fighting a useless and energy-sapping battle, had given in. However, if he _happened_ to be going in the same direction as the young nobleman, there was such a thing as coincidence. Or so his cousin used to say whenever she followed him around back when she used to visit.

So long as he had a purpose, he did not actually feel out of place while walking through the streets of Shitamachi. He was aware that his bearing and clothing indicated his status and had deliberately dressed plainly. The feeling that he was not quite fitting in remained with him as he navigated the narrow streets.

This place was a warren. Suzaku paused at a crossroad. There was no-one in sight. He was fairly certain he should be turning left--

"Don't move or you'll bleed to death in a minute," a voice growled behind him just as he felt the kiss of a very sharp knife at his throat, right above the jugular. His hand froze on its way to his short sword--too slow! He had not been alert enough.

"Oh put that away, Kallen! He doesn't respond well to armed threats," a more familiar voice said and the blade was rather reluctantly withdrawn. Kaguya trotted out of the shadow of the alleyway behind him. "Greetings, cousin! Since you were so helpful the other night, we've decided to help you today!"

"And what are you supposed to help me do?" Suzaku eyed the other two women who were with her warily. He was beginning to suspect that they might be more than just simple female entertainers. He had not even _heard_ Kallen as she approached. And how had Kaguya found him in the middle of Shitamachi?

"We're going to help you do a good deed," Kaguya said. "Of course, if you're not interested in helping to rescue wrongly detained women, we'll look for someone else."

"Don't get clever with words--I'm not ten years old," Suzaku said, sighing inwardly. "Tell me everything."

Kaguya knew when to show her hand. It was obvious what they wanted from him, but his cousin had deliberately held back so that he would not jump up at once to run headlong into a confrontation with the _doushin_ the way he might have once.

"My uncle is not in his office this morning--he went to a meeting with some high-level officials."

"Wonderful--they're discussing new taxes and not seeing petitioners today," Kallen said scathingly. Suzaku had a feeling that she would happily gut him with her knife at any given provocation.

"But we have a secret weapon up our sleeves, Kallen," Kaguya said. 

"Kaguya can forge the necessary documents, but we need the official seals," said the other dancer--the one with the most disconcertingly expressionless stare. She was said to be a fairly well-known performer. "Your uncle should have the right ones."

"But--" It was true enough that official petitions took time and his uncle was not going to see any today. Yet a lot could happen in the span of a day. He knew the unhappy fate of the women who were rounded up in the arbitrary raids in Shitamachi. Indentured in the Yoshiwara, probably never to emerge again until death or sickness overtook them.

"We should hurry if you want to be in time. Meet you in your uncle's office in half an hour." She also knew what to say to override his protests. 

“But how are you going to get in--”

"Suzaku--we'll never get anything done if you keep asking questions," Kaguya said over her shoulder as she dashed away. Just like the way she used to when they had been children.

Suzaku was entirely too calm as he turned back and headed up the hill again. Only his whitening knuckles on the hilt of his sword betrayed his unease. He owed the girl this much. If it had been her alone, he would have gone to his uncle for the official documents and borne the scrutiny of the _doushin_ to redeem a woman who would then be known as his mistress. A minor issue, but he disliked his affairs to be made so public. His cousin’s ruse would have to suffice, for now.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

No-one paid much attention to Suzaku’s return. He was often called upon to deliver important missives to nobles and samurai alike and his coming and goings were not very tightly scrutinised.

He made his way to the rooms that his uncle used as an office for his duties as a magistrate. And almost jumped out of his skin as his cousin and the woman called Oshiitsu popped up just as he reached the door.

After ignoring his questions about how they had got into a walled compound in one of the most securely fortified areas on the hill, Kaguya got to work immediately. She laid out the paper and a sample document by his uncle’s assistant--Ogawa was with his master today to take notes--and ground a stick of ink against the _suzuri_ in a professional manner before throwing back her sleeves and picking up a brush.

As a former member of the nobility, her calligraphy was typically reflective of her background--a highborn woman's educated and cultured hand. As a forger, her calligraphy was magnificent. Suzaku could not tell it apart from Ogawa’s hand and that alone was rather alarming. For instance, it might explain how someone could move around was easily as she could—

"Someone should stand watch," Oshiitsu said. Suzaku volunteered. No-one would question his presence and he was uneasy at all the subterfuge that was going on.

“He’s a bit strait-laced,” Kaguya said, when the door slid shut. “That kind of traditional upbringing doesn’t allow for much freedom.”

Oshiitsu looked around at the fine but suitably understated furnishings around them and raised her brows. “And you’re saying you didn’t have a traditional upbringing?”

"I didn’t say it worked the same way on different people. Ne, Oshiitsu- _san_ . . . It occurred to me that this could be done without so much sneaking around. I could have forged these documents _anywhere_ and Suzaku could have taken it here for the seal and be done in a minute."

"Oh? How interesting," Oshiitsu said, opening a cabinet and removing a stack of records.

The brush barely paused as its wielder looked up thoughtfully. "So who do you work for? The _Roujuu_? Of course not, those old fossils would never utilise a female spy . . . The Imperialists?"

A soft thump as another cabinet was opened was her only reply.

"The Chinese? The _Koreans_?"

Oshiitsu did not respond to this line of questioning as she flipped through a few more tomes.

"Or the Dutch? Some group I haven’t mentioned yet? You know, as a loyal subject, I should be stopping you--"

The other woman paused in the midst of her activities.

"--but I'm not going to care about what you're doing right now because _this_ is more urgent," Kaguya continued. "And you're not a bad person, are you, Oshiitsu- _san_? After all it was your trick with the hook and line that got us in the back gate."

"Saa, that depends, doesn't it?" Apparently finished with her search, she took a sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal to write something down.

“So much intrigue,” Kaguya said, picking up the heavy official seal in both hands and making a very neat imprint in the corner.

“Speak for yourself.” Oshiitsu came over to the writing desk and looked over Kaguya’s handiwork. “No wonder we passed the security checks so easily.”

“Upbringing again. I’ve seen this done plenty of times. This should do it. Now let’s get my cousin so that he can go save the day.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	14. Cross That Bridge

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Luluko remembered that the last time she had been this terrified was when her parents had been buried. The realisation that she and her sister were alone with no means to fend for themselves had dawned upon her. It was only through the kindness of the neighbour who had arranged for the funeral that their family tree had been examined and the distant relatives in Edo had been found.

She had learned to count her blessings. Though it was difficult to find any in this dank room that the women had been corralled in. It resembled a cattle pen more than anything else.

It could not be hygienic with so many people crammed into one place. Luluko was beginning to feel claustrophobic and more than a little desperate.

Some of the women had used exceptionally foul language on the _doushin_ and had been struck for their impertinence. Luluko had held onto Mai and Emiko throughout the whole episode, tight-lipped with suppressed fear and a surprising amount of anger. They had a right to be angry--even if those women had been illegally soliciting customers in bathhouses, they had probably been making do the best they could. And disrupting her uncle’s business like that!

Emiko was quaking in her clogs while Mai was biting her lips. With an unpleasant jolt, Luluko remembered that the older girl had been intending to marry Harada when he managed to wring a pay raise from Uncle Odou. What would become of them if they were not freed from this place? The _doushin_ had just taken down their names in a perfunctory fashion for record purposes. What if they were confused with some of the other women and lost in bureaucratic hubris?

One or two of the guards had leered at them--at the women in general--and had received scowls from the bolder ones. But it was a stark reminder of just how powerless they were, right here and now. 

She did not know how much time had passed before the door of the pen opened and the guard stepped in with a man dressed like a clerk. The official consulted a list and called their names.

“You three, out!” Glaring frostily at the guard, Luluko marched out with Naomi, Emiko and Mai in tow. 

At the end of the long corridor, they emerged blinking into a room with actual windows. 

“Suzaku- _san_!” she blurted out upon seeing the only familiar face amongst the men there. He barely nodded and motioned them to follow. Holding her tongue, Luluko urged the others on until they were past the doors, past the gates of the compound--this was not the time to ask questions. 

Once outside, it was as though a weight had been lifted off her chest. They were ambushed by Oshiitsu, Kallen and Kaguya shortly after. Yes, there were still things to be thankful for.

“Nana- _chan_ ’s waiting for you!”

“Your aunt might actually cry when you get back--I want to see that.”

Amidst the storm of relief that encompassed them all, Luluko had the presence of mind to look to Suzaku. “Thank you—I--“

“You should go home to your sister,” he said. 

Yes, she would have to go home. Her feet moved almost on their own accord. The mood of the others was contagious and buoyant--the journey home seemed so short now.

Home was a house where her uncle and aunt were. Home was where her sister had dragged herself out to the front entrance to wait for her.

“Nanari!” 

“Nee- _san_!”

“What are you doing out here? You should go inside--it’s going to rain--”

“But I was so worried!”

“It’s all right now. You’re all tired out--you should go to bed now--”

She knew she was fussing, but she had to do _something_ to diffuse the nervous energy that had built up within her in the past few hours. Was it so late already? Her uncle looked more ready to faint from relief than her aunt. As for Aunt Kaede--well, if she was relieved, perhaps it was because the workshop would not be short of workers. Or she was glad that Suzaku- _san_ had been good enough to perform such a favour. It was a most uncharitable set of thoughts and she pushed them aside.

In the middle of putting Nanari to bed, it dawned upon her belatedly that he had followed them home and was being fawned over by Aunt Kaede. Luluko planned to rescue him once her sister was in bed, but Kaguya pried him loose and dragged him outside.

Intending to thank him properly, Luluko made sure that Nanari was tucked in and followed them out. The two of them were standing in the shadow of the gate, heads close together in a whispered discussion. She had not meant to listen in on their conversation, but they were not facing her as they spoke.

“--no guarantees, but I’ll see what I can find out about that,” Kaguya was saying.

“Thank you.”

“It was a little too close to home. And speaking of which, it’s none of my business, but your uncle is being investigated by an unknown party.”

Suzaku stiffened abruptly. “What about my uncle are they investigating?”

“I think you know better than I,” Kaguya said shrewdly. “I don’t know _who_ yet, but it looks like it might be trouble. What are you going to do? If your uncle is in--”

“I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it, won’t I?”

In a rare fit of pique, Kaguya stamped her foot on the flagstones. “Suzaku! You’re the only relative I can talk to in this whole city! I don’t want you to get dragged down with your uncle--”

“You’ll miss me, won’t you?” he asked teasingly. “I can handle this. Thank you for telling me.”

Scowling, Kaguya watched her cousin go. “It’s your head,” she muttered as she turned around--and saw Luluko standing behind her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but is Suzaku- _san_ in any trouble?”

“Eh, that depends . . . I’m almost sure today’s problem was entirely accidental, but there’s something else I need to check up on. Oh, I almost forgot . . . This came for you.” Kaguya fished a letter from her sleeve and handed it to Luluko. “With all the excitement, it slipped my mind, you see . . .”

Ignoring the fact that the letter had probably been opened and read previously, Luluko scanned the brief lines in silence.

"I am . . . tired of this," she said, refolding the letter slowly.

“Tired of what?” Kaguya asked.

“This. Being afraid. Not knowing what’s going to happen.” She stared at the gate and started forwards. 

“No-one knows the future,” Kaguya said, obviously puzzled. “Where are you going?

“You can tell my aunt that what she’s been hoping for has happened,” Luluko said over her shoulder. “And I’m probably not coming back until tomorrow.”

If she had been looking back, she might have seen Kaguya’s mouth drop open. “Hey--are you sure? Luluko--”

But she was gone--out the gate and down the street, as swiftly as her feet could carry her.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It had been a shock to see her face again.

Despite the urgency of the situation, it had been rather surreal as Suzaku realised distantly that he was consciously abetting a crime. But it would not be the first time.

It had been Suzaku’s job as the only male involved to go with the documents to the headquarters of the _doushin_. He had stood by impassively as the papers were poured over exhaustively--he was used to it and Kaguya’s forgery passed muster shortly. With luck, this matter would never resurface again--unlike other things.

The three women looked shaken but otherwise unharmed as they were liberated. They were rushed away by the combined forces marshalled by his resourceful cousin.

Like a leaf in a stream, Suzaku was swept along in their wake as they trekked back into the maze-like streets of Asakusa. Feeling rather other of place, he observed the scene of the homecoming from one corner. They looked happy to be home. _She_ looked happy to be with her sister.

With all the people gathered together, the small house behind the textile shop got rather crowded. The woman who was her aunt was nattering into his ear while the head of the household was thanking him profusely. Suzaku really had no idea about what to do in situations like this besides falling back on rigid politeness. Kaguya took pity on him at last and came to his rescue, but she had more unsettling news for him to take home.

Finding Jino now would be impossible and he had one more issue to mull over as he walked back. Not that he could think properly with the persistent image of her face popping up in his mind.

On the way back, it began to drizzle. He gauged the distance between his current location and the Yamanote, and decided to purchase an umbrella from a shopkeeper who looked a lot more cheerful now that his wares would sell.

The drizzle developed into a spring shower--the kind that everyone said was a precursor to the blooming of the cherry blossoms--

He thought he heard his name being called and looked behind him.

"Luluko- _san_?"

Suzaku had never known why poets compared slender women to willow trees until then. Her hair was flapping loose from its bindings, catching stray droplets of rain as she ran down the street.

And then she was in front of him, close enough to speak without resorting to shouting over the sound of the rain. A slightly crumpled piece of paper that looked extremely familiar was clutched in her hand. "I don't want to regret this life, Suzaku- _san_. Do you?"

The touch of her lips against his was like a spark to oil.

He supposed later that they had been lucky that the rain had cleared the street. His arms came up to hold her and for a moment, there was nothing else in the world.

The umbrella was forgotten, coming to rest on the ground after it fell.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

She had chased after him. Something she had not dreamed of doing before.

It was going to be a day of firsts. 

Her hand was on his arm, pressed between their bodies as they huddled under what little shelter the oiled and waxed paper afforded as they crossed the bridge in silence. Luluko would never have dared to do what she had, but it had come so easily that she had not thought about it. It had been like that--a blankness that had overtaken her mind as the kiss had deepened. There was just the sensation of his lips on hers and a hollow roar in her ears.

Unlike the time when she had been ferried in a palanquin to an unknown destination, her heart was not hammering in her chest as they walked through the drenched streets. There was only the present as they entered the quiet inn and were shown to a room by a studiedly incurious servant.

It was like falling off from a height. It was his eyes on her as she loosened her sash that made her pulse race. It was the rain-wet chill on her skin as she slipped off her inner robe, raising goose bumps up and down her arms. It was all this and more that made her each out for him. 

He was warm to touch and she could feel his desire as she pressed close. Emboldened, she undid the ties of his _hakama_. He made a choked-off noise before he pulled her to him and resumed what they had started on the bridge. Strong fingers plucked out her hairpins and she shook loose her hair from its confining bun.

There would be no turning back from this.

A kind of sweet anticipation welled up from her core as they sank down onto the bedding. Was this what people meant by feeling desire or lust? She could feel every callus on his fingers on her skin as he held her and urged her thighs to part. Tensing again, she clutched at his shoulders as he entered her.

It did hurt, at first. Then it lessened as she adjusted to him and gradually began to feel that anticipation again--as thought the friction between them had started a slow fire that was building up within her. The feeling intensified as he caressed her breasts, causing her to gasp as a jolt of pleasure ran through her body.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

There were a million reasons why they should not be doing this, but Suzaku could not recall them as they move against each other.

He thought he had been going too fast when she made a pained expression, but she had urged him to continue and Suzaku thought he would not be able to stop after that. Her nails stopped digging into his shoulders after a while and she grew more responsive to his touches. Flushed and gasping, she cradled his head to her bosom as he thrust into her.

He forgot about the thinness of the walls and the hundred and one other issues that plagued his mind as he moved mindlessly towards completion. Did he shout out when he came? Suzaku could not recall as he lay with his head against her chest. Her pulse was still racing and she could barely suppress a moan as he drew out of her and gently ran a thumb over her sex.

“Suzaku--oh!” She cried out in surprise as he rubbed that small nub again. “What are you do--”

Her question was cut of abruptly as he bent to apply his tongue and fingers to her quivering flesh. He felt her shudder and cry out, muscles and limbs tensing as she found her own pleasure peaking within her.

Drowsy and content, he lay in her arms afterwards and idly played with strands of her hair. It was then that he made a wish and told her about it.

“We’ll see . . . Your cousin did say that no-one knows the future,” she said. “In the meantime, just send a note.”

The immediate future caught up with them all too soon when dawn came and they parted ways again.

Suzaku returned to his duties and listened with half an ear to Jino’s invented excuses as to why he was going to have to go off alone--meaning without Suzaku.

“Jino,” he said at last, “if you’re sneaking out to chase after a girl, you could at least trust me to be discreet about it.”

He had the pleasure of seeing Jino’s jaw drop to the floor. “I mean, grow up and be upfront about it--I’m not going to judge you. Just don’t get into any trouble. She’s not a married woman, is she?”

It kept Jino so off-balance that he never asked where Suzaku had gone off to while he was not with him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	15. A Very Short Engagement

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_How long could this last?_

_Like this with her warm, languorous shape pressed up to his side and her long, long hair streaming across the bedding like a banner. With her low vibrant voice whispering to him in the aftermath of their lovemaking._

_They had sent messages--very short ones--through Kaguya’s intermediary to arrange their meetings. He had sent gifts and cash to her relatives--something her aunt was over the moon about, according to her._

_But how long could it last?_

_He voiced his concerns to her as they lay entwined together, bathed in the light of a solitary candle._

_"I suppose we could still meet up even if I did get married.”_

_"I don't want to think of you with another woman," she said. But she also knew the reality of the situation. He was of age--actually over the age by samurai standards--to marry. Someday, he would marry some stranger in a match arranged for him by his uncle._

_"Even if I was married, my uncle would probably have me divorce my wife and re-marry for political gain."_

_"But what do you want?"_

_"What I want does not signify--"_

_"What do you want?" Her eyes were trained fixedly on his._

_He told her, but she did not laugh._

_"Are you sure?"_

_"More sure than anything."_

_"Then I will make it so.”_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Eh, are you sure about this?” Kaguya had found herself asking that question a lot of late. “Oi! Don’t walk so fast!”

“Sorry, Kaguya- _san_ ,” Luluko said as they passed through another narrow side-street. “I’m supposed to be doing the shopping right now, so I have to hurry.”

“I can see that,” Kaguya muttered as they came to one particular tea house in their neighbourhood. “Just have some pity on people with short legs.”

The tea house was mostly empty at that time of the day, but for one particular customer, who was nursing a hangover in a corner.

“Ah, it is a miserable day when I am hung-over and lovely ladies come to call,” Naruse said morosely. “I cannot get up to greet you.”

“You mean every other day,” Kaguya said, rolling her eyes. 

“A terrible vice. My muse drives me mad sometimes--”

“Your patron is Ogawa Hiroshi, secretary and assistant to _hatamoto_ Omori,” Luluko cut through the impending flow of drama very swiftly. “Actually, he’s your lover and--”

“Ah, I see that someone’s been digging around . . . So what of it?” Naruse was suddenly on guard, though one could not tell from how casually he was seated.

“So I have a small request. Whether you fulfil it or not is up to you.”

“That elder sister of yours,” he began.

“--is a terrible influence, I know. But if you’ll help, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

“ _That_ . . . was a pretty bad thing to do,” Kaguya said slowly as they walked back out into the market later on. “He can’t resist getting involved.”

“That’s why I asked him.”

“And you just brought me along to watch?”

“Not really. I need your help for this too.” 

Kaguya fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “Oh? And why would that be? Aside from my natural helpfulness, of course.”

“Because I’ve already enlisted Oshiitsu- _san_ to handle my aunt and you’re the best actor I know?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Several days later, the magistrate Omori Masahiro turned to his assistant for the next petitioner.

Apparently, he had an appointment with a go-between. Omori did not remember making such an appointment but it was written down quite clearly on the list. Recalling that he had sought a solution to rein in his nephew who was at a difficult age, Omori supposed that marriage was the easiest way about it. After all, Suzaku already had a woman on the side--he had to be prepared for marriage soon. Having been married to his first wife when he was sixteen and his second when he was twenty, Omori saw nothing amiss in marrying and re-marrying.

The go-between, a tiny crone swathed in voluminous veils for some religious reasons, presented her credentials and they got down to business.

A match for a young man, the _nakoudo_ said in her slightly sing-song voice, of course, of course. Such a fine samurai too.

The old woman had done her research. She knew who his nephew was.

Omori said that he was looking for a suitable woman of good family. Of course, he had hoped that Suzaku would make an advantageous marriage, but at the moment, a girl with no political connections in the Shogunate would do. Privately, Omori wanted to ensure that the boy did not get it into his head to become too ambitious. He needed a loyal vassal, not someone who might one day be gunning for his position.

Of course, of course, the matchmaker trilled, such relationships are tricky. It so happened that she had a list of young women with her. Would Lord Omori mind if the girl was from another town? If not then she had a candidate in mind. There was a girl from Kanazawa who was living with her relatives after the plague took her parents. She was from a decent and traditional samurai family, though not particularly well off. Spent most of her days doing chores, could cook and clean, devoted to taking care of her blind and crippled sister--such a girl was obviously ripe for marriage. To this end, her merchant relatives were offering a dowry of cash and the addition of assorted goods for her to make a good match. The go-between passed over a list for his consideration.

That much in cash plus goods was nothing to scoff at. And not having any family with political associations was an added bonus. Not to mention the lack of influential in-laws would save a lot of trouble when he divorced her for a better prospect. That was the deciding factor. Surely the boy would appreciate having a wife who was capable of running his household and not some decorative vase?

He would have to investigate her background, but he had the resources for that. The matchmaker took her leave after he had agreed to the match, promising to return with good news from the woman’s family.

His nephew was stoic when he was informed of his upcoming nuptials a few days later. He would do his duty, that much Omori could tell.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_He had been afraid that she might do something drastic when his impeding betrothal was announced._

_“Am I that sort of woman?” she asked when he had told her. Her extravagant length of hair was draped over her white shoulders after a bath._

_“No, you’re not,” he admitted, running his fingers through the dark locks._

_“And what sort of woman do you think I am?”_

_He told her. In excessive detail. But that was later._

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	16. A Scandal in Edo

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When his uncle told him that the matchmaker had arranged for a meeting with his prospective bride during a cherry-blossom viewing session, Suzaku showed up at the appointed time in the small park near the foot of the hill. The matchmaker and his uncle’s assistant Hiroshi would be chaperoning them. With the crowd that usually turned up at the most anticipated event of the year, their presence would be mostly redundant.

A distinctive pair emerged from midst the hordes of people thronging under the trees--the tiny figure of the matchmaker in her veils and the girl in a fetching kimono that matched the colour of the cherry blossoms. She was tall for a woman--almost as tall as he was--

Suzaku had to look away so that he would not give himself away. He peered hard at the diminutive figure of the matchmaker and almost laughed in amazement. Only the presence of his uncle’s assistant prevented him from doing something uncharacteristic as the introductions were made.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_“I thought your aunt would have held out longer,” Oshiitsu said after a particularly gruelling session with Aunt Kaede and Uncle Odou about certain minor details._

_“We have my uncle to thank for that.”_

_“I didn’t think he had it in him to put his foot down like that.”_

_“Only my aunt would argue in that kind of situation,” Luluko said._

_“Then again she is the type to shave change from a copper coin.”_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Later, Ogawa reported to his master that his nephew had made conversation in the approved fashion. It had been awkward but expected. Suzaku was not that socially inept and perhaps having a mistress had been good for him. The _nakoudo_ had said that if all was well, the engagement could take place within ten days.

The _yunio_ did occur five day later. The exchange of the symbolic gifts between the two families went by without a hitch and the wedding date was set.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_"Are you all right with this?"_

_"Why should I not be?"_

_"It's cheating, isn't it?"_

_"My cousin would say that we merely got started a little earlier."_

_"Your cousin says a lot of things."_

_"I'll agree with her this time."_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The wedding procession was a solemn affair. The bride left her guardians' house in a palanquin followed by her uncle, aunt and sister. There were no other guests from the bride's side as the event was held in the groom's house up on the Yamanote and the actual list of _acceptable_ individuals had been rather short.

The bride and groom sat like elaborately dressed and painted dolls in the place of honour as the guests came to pay their respects. Omori had made a generous donation to the temple so that a priest would come to bless the gathering. All in all, it was a stiff-necked affair meant to show off Omori’s generosity.

But there were musicians and performers hired for the reception afterwards--screened by Lord Omori's assistant--and the wedding banquet promised to be fairly entertaining.

After the wedding, they would stay with the groom's uncle, in a set of rooms set aside for their own household.

“Ah, happy endings,” Naruse said melodramatically from behind his sleeve when the festivities wound down. He had not partaken of the wine yet as he had been performing.

“I’m going to write a song about this,” Kaguya declared after the musicians had packed up and collected their fee for the evening.

“Do what you like,” Oshiitsu said before going back to pack her things. She left a letter explaining that she was going to Osaka and thanked her kind hosts for their support in the past five years. She was gone by the morning.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_“Was that a messenger?” he asked when she returned to the room after a brief absence._

_“Aah, a letter from someone I know. She’s leaving the city.”_

_“You look more troubled than sad.”_

_“That’s because I just got a piece of troubling news. How soon before we can leave?”_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Shouldn’t you be getting home earlier, now that you’re married and have, you know, _responsibilities_ ,” Jino said as he clapped a hand on his shoulder with a wink.

“Not so much that I can’t still keep an eye on you,” Suzaku replied. “So I heard that your turn’s coming soon.”

“Eh, it’s a big fuss over nothing. I’ve been to two fittings and three gift exchanges. It’s apparently more complicated because she’s from _that_ clan.”

Suzaku shook his head sympathetically. “It’s harder when clan politics comes into it.”

“I don’t know how you managed it, but I envy you,” Jino said.

“Maybe you won’t after I tell you this.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The house in Shitamachi seemed a lot smaller when she returned.

“Oh you shouldn’t have brought all this,” her sister said, her hands roaming over the gifts she had been presented with.

“ _Nee-san_ is a lady now. I wish I could see you,” Nanari said wistfully, her hands reaching out to pat the good silk of her sombre and matronly black kimono. “You must be very beautiful . . .”

“I’m still the same,” she said, allowing her sister to examine her with her hands.

“But different, in a way,” Nanari said. “You’re a married woman--should you come back and visit like this?”

“I don’t care about those conventions,” she said. Which was true because if she had cared, she would not have chosen to marry as she had.

“Don’t you have a husband to take care of?”

“He can take care of himself,” she told her sister. “But he needs some reminding sometimes.”

“He seemed nice, you know, when he came over to visit.” It had been a little strange, but at least he knew that he had to win over her sister as well.

“Yes . . . Nanari, do you want to go on a trip? Back home?”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a month after the wedding when Kururugi Suzaku asked his uncle for leave to bring his wife to her ancestral home in Kanazawa. She would like to visit her parents’ tomb to make offerings and to assure their spirits that she had secured a good marriage. They would also like to take the girl’s sister along as there was a convent nearby and she would no doubt do very well there after a suitable donation was given to the sisters. Suzaku had also been released from his obligations to the clan of the _Yamashiro-no-kami_ as the young nobleman he was guarding might be leaving Edo after his marriage to a lady of the Matsudaira clan.

Omori Masahiro had been pleased that his nephew appeared to be settling down. He had granted their request and applied for a travelling permit on their behalf. He had even supplied them with money to buy a new grave marker for the girl’s parents.

Of course, the girl had been a lot prettier than Omori had anticipated and she was no doubt doing a very good job of keeping her nephew’s attention. He seemed much more inclined to come home early these days. There had been, among the wedding gifts, a rather elaborate and thick tome of _shunga_. The boy was already the envy of his peers and some of the older generation--his uncle included. 

Almost a month later, the news that the newlyweds had reached Kanazawa arrived in Edo. Then there was no further communication. Omori sent his men to investigate, but they turned up nothing but a month-old trail that was already cold. His nephew and his wife had apparently vanished without a trace from Kanazawa. Faced with the prospect of being known as the _hatamoto_ who could not keep his own family in line, Omori Masahiro reported that there had been an accident involving a ferry-crossing and bought funeral tablets for the deceased.

But in the tea houses and banquet halls that month, there was a popular song about a pair of lovers who had escaped from their restrictive circumstances and ran away to Nagasaki to seek out a different future. That song was banned fairly quickly. The magistrate had other things to worry about by then. Such as the special auditors that arrived out of the blue and were suddenly extremely interested in a matter that occurred eight years ago.

And so it was in the late spring of the year _Houreki_ 10 (1761), that a small scandal occurred in Edo. 

However, it was overshadowed by a scandal of epic proportions when a young nobleman of the illustrious family of the _Yamashiro-no-kami_ ran away with an apprentice dancer on the eve of his betrothal.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who stayed around this long, why are you still here? I have no “I survived this fic” t-shirts to give out, just props to you all for putting up with this insanely long fic with all its typos, misspellings, overly convoluted plots, rampant _italics_ and occasionally OOC characters.
> 
> Self-Indulgent-End-Notes:
> 
> \- The awful truth is I did more research for this fic than some term papers I wrote while in uni. Liza Dalby’s _Geisha_ has a lot of historical context and points of interest and I would recommend it highly if you’re interested.
> 
> \- My relationship with this fic is kind of like “Gah! Argh--I don’t believe I used the word _maidenhead_ in a fic! But that bit with Toudou was kind of funny . . .”
> 
> \- I don’t normally do fics like this . . . (But it’s Luluko! And an apprentice _geisha_ in Edo would be a _han’gyoku_ . . . I restrained myself from making bad puns.)
> 
> \- Or happy endings. But I rationalised it to the inner angst-whore because lovers’ suicide was clichéd and really depressing, not to mention _so_ 1720s and passé.
> 
> \- I think I will go and shoot my inner cheesy historical romance writer. Then bury it in a deep dark hole before it can come up with something along the lines of “Suzaku as a samurai and Lelouch as an _onnagata_ in a _kabuki_ troupe”.


	17. Fanart: Oshiitsu

Yes, I'm terrible--have some sad fanart.

Medium: Sketch coloured in Photoshop 

Completed in 2003, re-edited in 2013.

  



End file.
